The Deep Breath and the Plunge
by vicioux
Summary: They'd thought it was over, but Sousuke Aizen's death had not ended the war, any more than their petty victories had made them whole again. The inhabitants of the Gotei Thirteen prepare to fight a war they thought they had already won.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Sing it if you know the words… **

**Listening to: Mumford and Sons – 'Little Lionman'.**

**So, somewhere along the line, I realised that the sequel I had planned worked better as two stories. Which I am now writing simultaneously. Any and all theories advanced that involve me being a masochist will now be treated with the utmost respect and genuine consideration.**

**Anyway, the two stories will be linked, but it won't be necessary to read both (lazy readers, rejoice!). This particular one will be an assortment of one-shots from a variety of points of view in the lead up to war (and, eventually, during). The other one will focus on my favourite crack pairing (Nemu and Jyuushiro. Yes, I know I'm mad. It's fun, isn't it?). These stories are still part of a series, but if you can't be bothered reading the others and want to get some back-story just PM me and I'll fill you in Sparknotes style.**

**Right… I think I've covered everything. Now – on with the** **show!**

xXx

It had been two and a half weeks.

Actually, if you wished to get technical, it had been seventeen days, three hours and twenty-eight minutes. Not that he was counting. Or obsessing. But this was a situation that was somewhat difficult to ignore so, Ulquiorra reasoned, he could hardly be expected to remain oblivious to it.

In a perfect world, he would be a true hollow without feeling and wouldn't care about what was happening. Of course, in a perfect world, Aizen wouldn't be a traitor and Ulquiorra might never have evolved. Then again, in a really perfect world, would there even be hollows in the first place? Or death?

Sitting on the dusty rooftop, Ulquiorra glared at the setting sun and decided that, given how well everything else in his life was going at the moment, perhaps now was not the time to get philosophical. It was time to focus on the basic fact – that seventeen days, three hours and twenty-eight minutes ago Captain Neliel Tu Oderschvank of the Gotei Thirteen's Seventh Division had stopped speaking to him.

Ulquiorra was used to people not speaking to him. There were still many in the Soul Society who did not trust him, even though he had sworn allegiance to them and had served for over a year as lieutenant of the Seventh without a single blemish on his record. He could understand that. After all, he had been their enemy for far longer when he had served under Sousuke Aizen, and he could appreciate that it was difficult to trust an old foe, no matter how much of a new leaf they had overturned. In all honesty, this did not bother him – he was hardly a social butterfly by any stretch of the imagination.

The thing was, while he was used to people not speaking to him, he was just not used to Neliel being one of them.

This would have been awkward enough had she been merely his captain, but Neliel had been considerably more than that from the moment they met on the battlefield. She was his partner, his companion, his lover and, on the odd occasion, his sanity. And it now appeared that he had fucked that up rather spectacularly.

To be fair, it was his fault. During the last mission to Hueco Mundo, when they had learned to they were once again to be thrown into war, Ulquiorra had been given a unique opportunity to serve as a double agent. Yammy and Wonderweiss, the new ringleaders furthering Aizen's ideas, had made it clear that they believed his loyalty had never wavered and he had been sure to give the impression that he was a victim of circumstance, rather than a threat. His bluff had worked, and Ulquiorra was now in position to feed information to the Soul Society. The only problem was, he'd gone over Neliel's head in order to secure the Captain-Commander's support for the idea, and hadn't had the chance to explain himself to her before he was forced to disclose his role at a strategy meeting. Neliel… had not reacted well.

Shifting positions amid the loose roofing tiles, Ulquiorra's frown deepened as he remembered the way her typically bright and open face had become an expressionless mask as she walked away from him. He'd given her time to cool down, only to come home to the quarters they shared to see his belongings neatly stacked outside the door. Ulquiorra had taken the hint and had resorted to his emergency plan, one he only brought out in the direst of circumstances – finding Grimmjow and drinking himself stupid.

He'd woken up with a nauseous feeling that was only partly the fault of alcohol, and absolutely no idea how to fix things with Neliel. The next few weeks had been hell. He was forced to watch Neliel limp around the office in grim silence (she'd been wounded in the course of that last mission, and it was slow to heal), ignoring his presence. At least he'd been offered a place to stay – Captain Soi Fon had allowed him the chance to move into her residence on the grounds that she was hardly there anymore (Grimmjow had looked far too smug as his captain made that announcement) – but his new abode lacked the warmth and charm of his home with Neliel.

It didn't help that all the cat plushies strewn about had freaked him out a little. Or that someone had dyed them all bright blue, which was definitely not Ulquiorra's favourite colour.

He desperately wanted to end this silence and come back home to her but, having racked his brains for some time now, he was no closer to finding a way to make that a possibility than he had been seventeen days, three hours and twenty – no, thirty-one minutes ago.

A sudden shift in the air behind him alerted him to someone else's presence, just as some loose roofing tiles gave way and the owner of said presence slipped slightly, a familiar voice uttering a string of curses as its owner righted herself. A thin smile appeared on Ulquiorra's face as he registered the identity of the shinigami who had joined him.

"Hello Maiko."

His third seat, a tall, pale young woman with a seemingly endless well of sarcasm to draw from, flopped down next to Ulquiorra, glaring at him balefully. "Hello to you, too. You couldn't give a girl a warning about the freaken roof, or were you too busy moping up a storm?"

"I am not - " He caught her eye, and broke off. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Maybe I was just hoping you'd fall off and save me from having this conversation."

Her eyes wide and innocent, Maiko fixed a curious look at him. "What conversation, oh fearless lieutenant of mine?"

Fixing her with a wry look, Ulquiorra replied, "You are completely unable to stop yourself from getting involved in other people's relationships. It was only a matter of time before you decided to 'assist' Neliel and I once more. Is Rangiku involved too?"

"Nah, Ran's got her own problems right now. And I only interfere with yours because the office is hella awkward when you two are at odds with one another. I really don't want 'Seventh Division Official Go-Between' to become my job title, so it's in my interest to keep you both communicating." Grinning wolfishly, she raised an eyebrow. "Plus, I do all my best living vicariously, seeing as you won't share Nel. Unless you've changed your - "

"No." Ulquiorra's reply came with the swiftness of routine.

Leaning back, she rested her head on her arms and watched the darkening sky. "Well, a girl can dream."

"Yes, but must you really tell me all about it the next morning?" Ulquiorra growled darkly, "That _is _my partner you're envisioning in a lewd fashion."

She chuckled. "You can't restrain my dreams."

He snorted. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't just shove you off the roof."

"So violent", Maiko gave a disappointed sigh, "Clearly Grimmjow has rubbed off on you - " She broke off, catching sight of his expression, and winced. "Too far?"

"Definitely."

Running a hand through her messy dark hair, she straightened up. "Sorry. But if you want a reason to keep me here, how about 'Nel actually talks to me, seeing as I'm Switzerland'. I have inside information."

A quizzical expression on his face, Ulquiorra turned to her. "Switzerland?"

"I'm full of chocolate, Nazi money and, most importantly, neutrality!"

"Ah. Of course. Foolish of me not to guess."

"You know, I _can _tell when you're patronizing me."

"So you _are _good for something. I've been labouring under the impression that your only skills were wisecracking and neglecting your paperwork", Ulquiorra remarked dryly. "I am delighted to be proven incorrect in that assessment."

"Do you want advice or not?"

Weighing his options, Ulquiorra decided the indignity of this, combined with the mocking he would take from Maiko, would be infinitely worth it if he came closer to getting Neliel to speak with him. "Very well, what would you recommend?"

Looking pensive, Maiko tilted her head to one side. "First things first. Why do you think she's mad at you?"

Ulquiorra blinked. "That much was obvious, I thought. Neliel is upset because I nominated myself for a dangerous mission and didn't tell her."

"Less the first, and more the second", Maiko pointed out. "Nel is used to danger in the line of duty. That she can deal with. Keeping it from her, though…" Breaking off, the young woman shook her head. "Given how painfully honest you are with people, it had to hurt that you lied to her, even if it was just by omission."

Scrambling to defend himself, Ulquiorra opened his mouth, only to be silenced as she continued. "However, you never do anything without a good reason, so I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt." Maiko fixed him with a stare that made him wish he had the official definition of the word 'gimlet' on hand. "Unless, of course, you have no excuse, in which case - "

"I had just cause for my actions", Ulquiorra broke in hurriedly. "I think even you could acquit me."

She relaxed, a faint smile crossing her face. "Yeah, I think I can guess. You know, sometimes you're just too nice for your own good."

Eyes narrowed, Ulquiorra frowned, looking her over before replying slowly, "I suspect you've actually deduced my reasoning correctly. You know, sometimes you're just too perceptive for your own good."

A mischievous grin on her face, Maiko carefully got up and brushed herself off. "Touché."

"I believe advice was offered", he stated bluntly. "Or is that as elusive as your completed paperwork?"

She snorted. "Why I'm nice to you, I'll never know. Look, if your reason for concealing this is what I think it is, you need to talk to her. She'll understand."

"I appreciate that, but I've been trying to talk to her for quite some time", Ulquiorra sighed. "I can't corner her in the office, and she changed the locks back - " He broke off, realising what he'd been about to say.

"Back home?" Maiko easily completed the sentence.

He glared up at her. "You do realise that things were infinitely simpler when I just didn't have feelings."

With a wry smile, his companion replied, "Simpler isn't better." Pausing, she fished something out of her pocket, before carelessly tossing it toward him. He caught it out of reflex, not even looking at the object as he palmed it. She continued. "Filched it from her desk today, so it's the current one. Use it well." She aimed one last grin at him, before launching herself off the roof and flash-stepping away.

Watching her progress until she disappeared from sight, Ulquiorra shook his head, sinking back into despondency. Clenching his fists, he was reminded of Maiko's gift and opened his hand to see what she had given him.

A polished silver key lay in his hand.

The corner of his lips twitched as he realised exactly what he was holding. Picking himself up, he tucked the key into his pocket and set off, determined to end this stalemate.

xXx

To say that Nel was not a happy woman right now would be roughly the equivalent of saying that Kenpachi Zaraki sometimes liked to fight.

It was a gross understatement of fact.

Oh sure, she'd been able to act as though she was functioning while she did her job. She knew that everyone she worked with could tell she wasn't herself, but she'd be damned if she broke down in front of them, no matter how many pitying looks Maiko cast in her direction. Once she got home, however, her behaviour was another story. The second she stepped through the door and no longer had to face her colleagues' scrutiny, it was almost as if she were a puppet whose strings were abruptly cut. She would collapse onto her bed, too drained even to cry, and just stare at the wall until sleep overcame her. Her house didn't feel like home anymore, all the warmth apparently leaving with Ulquiorra, which struck her as odd given that he was certainly not what anyone would describe as warm.

Nothing seemed to make sense. She wanted to ask Ulquiorra what the hell he'd been thinking, not going to her first and at least letting her know what was going through his head, but it still hurt too much to see him, let alone hear his voice. It didn't seem logical, that the man she loved, who loved her back and lacked even the inclination to lie for the sake of being tactful, would have done so over something of this magnitude. She felt like she was missing something, but since talking to him was the only way of getting at this last piece of the puzzle, she was going to continue missing that same something, at least until she felt able to look him in the eye without sobbing.

Given how she felt at the moment, that could be some time away.

Curling up into a ball, she shut her eyes and clutched her blankets closer, wishing that all the sheets didn't still smell like he did. She wanted him back here, especially given how dangerous his new mission was, but until she could meet him and talk like a rational arrancar, this was… Well, not _better_, precisely. Preferable? A more acceptable alternative? Living hell? If only –

Nel bolted upright in her bed, as she felt a spiritual presence she knew as well as her own arrive at her door. Paling rapidly, she tried to slow her breathing.

_I don't have to face him. It's not like he can get in now that the lock is different. I'll just stay here and block my ears so I won't hear him in the extremely unlikely event that he decides to yell and – _

She froze, as she heard the sound of the lock tumblers shifting and falling back into place, a sound that was rapidly followed by the door opening and footsteps coming her way. Trying not to hyperventilate, she looked up at the dark doorway and into the pair of bright green eyes that watched her, one thought clear in her head.

_I'm going to kill Maiko._

"Hello, Neliel."

She couldn't suppress a shiver. She'd missed that deep, husky voice almost as much as she'd missed its owner. That, however, was not the point. Holding her blankets with slightly shaking hands, she finally got her vocal chords working.

"You're not supposed to be here."

She winced as she spoke, realising as the words came out that she sounded like a petulant child. Ulquiorra stepped in through the door, coming to rest in a patch of moonlight her open window admitted. The cold, white light threw his features into sharp relief, and Nel couldn't help but admire him as he stood there, regarding her coolly.

"You do realise that this was originally my quarters, do you not? As such, I think we can hardly use that argument."

Nel flinched. "If you want me gone - "

"That is not what I meant", he cut in abruptly, before sighing and settling himself down at the foot of the bed. "That is the last thing I want. I'm not here to drive you out, I just need to talk to you."

Not trusting her voice, Nel nodded.

Silence stretched unbroken, as the two stared at one another, Ulquiorra looking as though he were trying to find the words and Neliel looking as though she were trying to find the nearest available exit. Finally, he spoke.

"I didn't want the choice to be yours."

She blinked, waiting for him to continue, before muttering, "Oh, well that clarifies things beautifully. I feel so much more enlightened _now_, so - "

"I went over your head to the General because I didn't want to force you to decide between my safety and that of the Gotei Thirteen", he broke in, his eyes fixed on her almost willing her to understand. "Because I knew that you'd do the right thing. I knew that you'd agree with me, and that I would be in this position anyway. And I knew that if I were to die as a result of my activities as a double agent, which is a very real risk, you'd never forgive yourself for having given that order."

He was staring at the floor now, but she still couldn't take her eyes off him as she inhaled sharply. Her mind racing, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head. "I might have been selfish."

He looked back up at her, a bittersweet smile on his face. "You wouldn't. I know you, Neliel. Better than I know myself, sometimes. So I took the choice out of your hands. I planned to tell you before it was announced, but I ran out of time. So I'm sorry that you found out that way." Ulquiorra paused, the smile fading. "But I'm not sorry for what I did. I only wanted to spare you further pain, in case - "

"Don't." Nel hugged her blankets even closer, shaking her head fiercely. "Don't even say it. I can't - " Breathing deeply, she began again. "I'm your captain. I give you dangerous orders all the time."

"Not like this", he replied. "We're on the brink of war, a war that we may very likely lose. Everything has changed." Gazing at her beseechingly, he tried again. "Neliel, I'm sorry that I hurt you, I just wanted - "

Whatever Ulquiorra had been about to say was cut off, as he suddenly found his arms full of his captain, strands of her green hair that had escaped from under her bone mask tickling his nose and her delicate hands curled in his shirt. A strained and muffled voice reached his ears.

"Next time you decide to get all noble on me, at least let me know why, so I don't throw you out of the house and spend the next seventeen days, three hours and however sodding many minutes it's been moping. Are we clear?"

Ulquiorra chuckled. "You counted too?"

The admission in that question was enough to break the last of Nel's barriers, as she fought not to sob into his shirt. "Oh Kami, I missed you. So much."

His arms curling around her even tighter, he whispered, "And I you, Neliel. We'll survive this." Staring down at the woman in his arms he repeated, with conviction, "We'll survive. We have to. I'll make damn sure of that."

A watery grin on her face, Nel looked up at him. "Well, when you put it like that, I have to believe you, don't I?"

"Precisely", he replied, brushing her bangs back from her face.

They stayed locked in that embrace as the minutes went by, until Ulquiorra drew back, the beginnings of a grin on his face as he held up a small, silver object.

"So… does this mean I get to keep the key?"

xXx

**I accept Visa, Master Card, Diner's Club, American Express and review-love, kthnx.**

**Guess which one's my favourite? :p**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I wish.**

**Listening to: The Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Runaway.**

Chapter Two

It was dark when Rukia Kuchiki strode out of the Thirteenth purposefully, intent on her task.

Three weeks ago, a war they had thought was over and won had been re-declared, if that was the right word. She wasn't sure – did it count as a re-declaration when only blindness (or stupidity, as she called it when she felt less charitable) had prompted them to believe it all over in the first place? Either way, that torturous meeting and announcement had been sat through three weeks ago which, in turn, meant that exactly one week ago the first strike had been made – a routine scouting group to Hueco Mundo had disappeared, only the blood in the sand and traces of their reiatsu to hint at what had occurred. That news had galvanised those few still wavering into action, as they moved to be ready to strike back. Patrols were doubled, training stepped up, allies sought, and, six days ago, the General had called Captain Ichigo Kurosaki of the Third Squad in to see him about a certain mission…

Only to have said captain return to his quarters afterward and bolt the doors, citing a need for a mental health break (though, knowing Ichigo, those had hardly been the words he'd used). He had not been out since.

Rukia wasn't worried the way everyone else was – she was perfectly aware that this wasn't a desertion. She knew that Ichigo could no more abandon the Gotei Thirteen than he could – well, it made for a very short list, the things he couldn't do, but she instinctively knew this was one of them. He was a protector; it was in his nature in a way that backing down from a losing battle was not.

What bothered her was not his actions, though she was concerned for him. It was the fact that he hadn't come to her.

She was one of Ichigo's best friends, indeed, one of the only ones in this world, seeing as the others still occupied the land of the living, and he hadn't even tried to talk to her about whatever was going on in his head. Sure, he was busy with his captaincy duties, but she was typically his sounding board, by dint of their mentor/friend relationship, and it irked her that he hadn't felt able to take a moment and explain to her what was bothering him. He was one of her best friends too, and the rejection hurt.

It didn't help that he was the last person she wanted to reject her.

Rukia had accepted the way she felt for Ichigo and was able to admit to herself (if not to him) that those feelings were not all entirely of the strictly friendly variety. He had been the first person to ever look at her and not just affix a label like everyone else did – labels she hated, like 'Kuchiki', 'street rat', 'shinigami', 'noble', that were at once truthful and untrue. She may have been all those things, but she was also more at the same time. To Ichigo, she was simply Rukia, and that could encompass so many things; she loved the way he just accepted her as she was from moment to moment and the freedom that accompanied such acceptance. In the end, she'd realised that she had become both addicted to that feeling and the man who inspired that in her, and that knowledge terrified her as it warmed her.

It was worse, in a way, because they were friends. So many of Ichigo's gestures, which would have been clear demonstrations of his feelings if the two of them were merely acquaintances, could be explained away by friendship and their unusual circumstances. Of course he spent all his time with her. Of course he was protective. Of course he had followed her and battled the vast majority of the world of the dead to stop her execution. She was his _friend_, wasn't she? Oh Kami, how that knowledge hurt sometimes. But that was just the way Ichigo was – he would go to any lengths to protect the limited number of people he let into his life. She was at once proud to be part of that select group, and saddened that she didn't seem to stand out the way she wished to. Still, she would take what she could get, and if his friendship was all that was ever offered, then she would just have to live with that. She'd done it before, concealing her feelings from a friend who didn't feel the same, and she could do it again.

Ideally, though, this time she wouldn't have to kill him.

Shivering as she remembered, Rukia shook herself and walked on, frowning as she tried to recall the way to her destination. Kaien was long gone and Ichigo, though he might wear his face, was not him. She was grateful for that – those little differences between them were some of the things that she loved most about Ichigo. Where Kaien's sense of humour had been that of a practical joker, Ichigo's was dry and subtle, where Kaien had been constantly smiling, Ichigo's smiles were rarer and all the more special when they appeared, where Kaien – well, she could go on, but she had a friend and captain to confront.

Taking a deep breath, Rukia hesitantly began to walk up the path to his house, running over her planned diatribe in her head. She couldn't help herself – she was blunt by nature and he usually responded to that. Hopefully she could snap him out of whatever was going on in his head _and_ vent her annoyance at him all in one fell swoop. At least, one could only hope. Slipping around to the back of his quarters, she spied an open window and hoisted herself up – her time in the living world had ingrained this particular habit, this avoidance of doors. Rukia also sometimes found herself asleep in the closets of the Kuchiki mansion, and usually ended up being retrieved in the morning by Byakuya, who wore a smug and somewhat amused expression on these occasions. Unfortunately, Nii-sama knew a little too much about her feelings for her own peace of mind, damn him. Byakuya Kuchiki and his annoying perceptiveness aside, there was more to the window entry than nostalgia. If she concealed her spiritual pressure, and she was currently doing so, Ichigo typically never realised she was there until they actually made physical contact. It made sense to do it this way, she had decided. He couldn't keep her out if she were already there, and even if he did throw her out, she was pretty sure she could at least get a few words in. Hopefully, that'd be enough.

Kami, she hoped that would be enough.

Delicately setting herself down on the other side, she frowned, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. She could understand the kitchen being dark – she'd had first hand experience of Ichigo's cooking and now was perfectly aware of why Yuzu was the Kurosaki family chef. But the rest of the house felt just as black and still, only the very faintest thrum of Ichigo's own reiatsu reassuring her that he was still alive and… she couldn't really guarantee well. There were faint flickers there of something that felt a lot like despair, a lot like pain, that she hadn't remembered feeling in him this clearly since –

She shuddered, remembering a reiatsu collar tight around her throat, a timid healer quaking at her feet and one man standing between her and her brother. She could still feel all too clearly the way hope had disappeared when Ichigo had felt how unmatched he and Byakuya were, could feel the betrayal as Yoruichi re-opened his wounds and got him out of harm's way, could see the look in his eyes as he stared back at her, leaving her behind to remain imprisoned.

_So close, and yet…_

_Don't think about it. Nii-sama is different now, no matter how he looks on the outside. Ichigo is alive, a captain in his own right and almost ridiculously powerful. I have nothing to worry about._

_Right?_

Stepping carefully, she stopped as her shoe made contact with something that crunched under foot. Shifting back, she squinted down at what she had shattered, only to widen her eyes as a familiar smell hit her.

_A broken sake bottle? But Ichigo doesn't drink…_

A cold dread setting in, Rukia closed her eyes, and let her other senses fill her with information, as she'd been taught. The air around her was still, stale and had that faint, bittersweet smell she associated with alcohol. She could hear faint stirrings in the next room, but they seemed listless, movement for movement's sake, rather than imbued with any purpose. Her eyes snapped open as she shuddered once more.

_None of this is like Ichigo! What the hell is going on here? Or, probably more to the point, what kind of mission did the General need to discuss with him? I can't think of anything that would inspire this._

_Whatever this is._

Steeling herself, she walked carefully forward, narrowly avoiding treading on several additional bottles. The next room was just as dark and still as the kitchen, but she knew this was where she'd find him.

_Don't back down, Kuchiki. He needs to snap out of it. You know Ichigo – he'll wallow in self-pity and loathing forever if you don't smack some sense into him. I can do this._

Resting her hand on the doorframe, she swung around, prepared to face the dim outline of her friend and give him he good yelling-at that he required.

That plan vanished as soon as she saw him.

"That you, Rukia?" The dark shape she assumed was Ichigo rose up from the equally dark shape that she assumed was the couch (Her eyesight in the dark was not spectacular. Chappy might like carrots, but she decidedly did not), and started to stumble over, continuing to slur, "Thought you'd come. Needed someone t' talk to, I jus'…"

He attempted to lean against the wall next to her, but ended up sliding down onto the floor. Her heart in her throat, Rukia sank down beside him and shook her head.

"Ichigo", she murmured, trying to keep the tremor from her voice, "you're drunk."

He blinked his warm brown eyes slowly in confusion, before shaking his head vigorously and giving her a bitter smile. "Rukia, this ain't drunk. This right here is _plastered_. Disctint - " He frowned and tried again, "Ditsinct – Ah, fuck it. Big difference."

She gulped, as he slumped forward a little and rested on her shoulder, coming into the light emitted by the window. She took in the dark circles under the eyes, the too-pale skin, the lines that shouldn't be present on a face so young. And he _was_ young, she had to remind herself. It was all too easy to forget Ichigo's age when you were faced with his almost unlimited power, his position as captain and his serious demeanour.

_He lost so much when I came into his life. He might say that he's grateful for the ability to protect everyone, and maybe that is all he considers when he remembers becoming a Soul Reaper, but eventually it will occur to him that he lost the last threads of childhood when I jammed Sode No Shirayuki into his heart. I did that to him. I dragged him into our world and, by association, our war, without even considering what it would do to him._

_Of course, if I hadn't, he'd be dead and on this side anyway. Maybe he'd even have graduated the academy by now. Hell, he might even be a captain just the same. All the same, he might have been spared some of the madness of the last few years._

Staring down at her charge, who was currently fighting a losing battle to sit up straight, Rukia fought the urge to run a hand through his mussed-up hair.

_I would have spared him all of it, if I could._

"You wanna know what the ol' bastard asked me?"

Rukia assumed that the ol' bastard was the Captain-Commander, and nodded her assent.

"He asked me – dead fucken serious, right? He asked me to go t' the Vaizard. Offer 'em their full pardons. Again."

Any blood that had remained in her face drained away, as Rukia took in just what he was saying. "You mean, he never issued them after - " She broke off, memories too hard to face.

"Af'er they fought the las' time", Ichigo continued, his voice raw with pain. "Coz they didn't fight the whole war through. They stopped after _that_ battle. When Ichimaru – Kami, d'ya remember what he did? They found Mashiro in _pieces._ Fucken pieces, Rukia! I think Kensei died that day too, just tryin' to put her back together."

"I remember." Her quiet whisper seemed to inspire him to continue, his voice starting to crack.

"They go through all tha' an' Head Cap'n Fuckhead wants 'em t' jump through the same fucken hoops to get pardoned for somethin' they weren't even guilty of in the firs' place! An' all I can think is that he wasn' there. He didn' see the look on Shinji's face, or Hachi's missing eye or Hiyori actually fucken crying. An' he doesn' see 'em when he closes his eyes, not like I do. I know life ain't fair an' shit, but he's making all the same damn mistakes again like he never learned a fucken thing, and there's nothing I can do about it", Ichigo finished in a whisper. "I can't fight him on it an' I've got no choice. So I gotta face Shinji and feed him this bullshit and watch the rest of them fall apart. An' I don't think I can do that. Not again."

Instinctively, her arm went around his shoulders as he apparently collapsed against her, exhausted but still spilling his soul to her.

"I can't do any of it again, Rukia. It's too damn hard the second time 'round. They want me to be the hero, once more with feelin', but I think I'm outta miracles", Ichigo finished quietly. "This war could be the end an - "

"No", Rukia broke in firmly, placing a finger on his lips and trying to ignore how close they were and how it felt as though her heart might just be breaking for him. "We can't think like that. You're not a defeatist Ichigo, and I won't let you become one now." Fighting the urge to strangle the General for this, she racked her brains. "Here's what we're going to do – you are going to sober up. I'll get some of Lieutenant Matsumoto's hangover cure, that'll make it less painful. And then, tomorrow, I'll go to Nii-sama, Renji, my captain, and Captain Urahara. They all feel as strongly about this as you do, and Captain Ukitake will get Captain Kyouraku and Captain Unohana in on it too. I'm sure with that many senior captains on board, we can do something about the General holding the pardon over their heads. Yoruichi should be able to talk to the nobles if there's any objection from that quarter."

Still thinking, she frowned. "I doubt we'll be able to talk the Head Captain out of searching for allies, but at least you can bring back others that might make him reconsider the Vaizard. Ishida, Orihime and Chad will help, and maybe even your own family. And at least it's you he sent. You can at least try to be sensitive about things. You can request people to go with you, too. You're not alone Ichigo, even if you - " She broke off, realising that he'd lifted his head and was staring at her with a strange expression on his face.

"What? What did I say?" A horrible suspicion emerged. "Is there something on my face?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, just… You're the best, Rukia. I mentioned that lately?"

She snorted, trying to cover the blush she knew was forming on her cheeks.

He's just being nice. Get a Kami-damned grip, Kuchiki.

"You _are_ drunk", she muttered dryly.

"Drunk, but not stupid", he pointed out with a grin, before laying his head back down on her chest. "You're good t' me. I should thank you more."

He didn't see the bittersweet smile on her face as she returned, just a little too cheerily, "Of course I'm good to you. We're friends, that's part of the deal."

_Friends. I'm really learning to hate that word._

"Wait - Ichigo, are you going to sleep?"

"Mm-hmm. Stay, jus' for a bit. Please?"

There were several different portions of her mind considering this, and each had its own opinion on the matter at hand, ranging from how nice Ichigo smelled, to how the Kuchiki's would react if they found out, to how she was fairly sure that any man who got this close to her non-existent cleavage should at least buy her a drink first, but all agreed on one thing -

"Of course I'll stay."

Giving in to the urge to stroke his hair, she closed her eyes as she felt his spiritual pressure calm.

_Of course I'll stay. I'll stay tonight, and we'll face the world tomorrow_.

_You only ever need to ask._

xXx


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I am not Tite Kubo, I don't own Bleach. That one really should go without saying now, but just to cover my ass from any and all legal issues, I am also none of the following – Queen of England, Amanda Palmer, Stephen Fry, Kurt Vonnegut, entirely respectable, piano player in the local whorehouse, or short.**

**You know, just in case you were wondering…**

**Listening to: Tori Amos – In the Springtime of His Voodoo.**

Chapter Three

Nothing set his teeth on edge the way people who used the phrase 'like losing a part of yourself' did. Perhaps he was being pedantic and a trifle unfair – no one actually knew what that sensation was like physically and they could hardly be blamed for imagining it and drawing comparisons.

No one knew, that is, except him.

Logically, he knew it wasn't people's fault that he glared at them for using a particular expression. After all, who would have anticipated that, among the strange beings that emerged during the war, would be one that comprised two bodies, two consciousnesses, but only one whole entity? He probably would have laughed at the idea himself if he hadn't been part of it. It was such a strange concept, that one could physically lose a part of oneself, in a way wholly unlike the typical battlefield amputations, but he now knew better than to laugh. He had felt every moment of his separation from Lillinette, every moment of his loss, and that blinding, excruciating pain was unlike any other he had experienced in centuries of existence.

Losing a part of yourself was unlike any other torment in the three worlds.

It was some comfort to Coyote Stark that Aizen hadn't known what he was doing when he had incinerated the little girl everyone had assumed was just his Fraccion. At the very least, he told himself, the bastard hadn't realised how much he'd just shot himself in the foot, managing to simultaneously weaken Stark's power and turn him into an enemy. That small consolation, however, hadn't made the pain any less real and immediate as the months went by, or made sleep any more forthcoming.

His new position with the Gotei 13, at least, kept him occupied. His captain, Byakuya Kuchiki, was the strong and silent type, and quite the taskmaster, but there was a bond of mutual respect there that Stark was decidedly unused to. Strange too, was the sheer _friendliness _of his new home. Killing each other was frowned on, friendly sparring was actually friendly (which had been unheard of with Nnoitora around), and no one expected you to address them as you would a god. He'd even found some associates in the man who had brought him in when he had turned on Aizen, Shunsui Kyouraku, who looked a little like Stark's long lost brother, and his pale shadow, Jyuushiro Ukitake. Surprisingly, he'd realised, despite the almost overwhelming haze of loss that followed him across worlds, that he rather liked his new home, and being a lieutenant.

But grief was still present, hitting him anew each time he recognised the changes in himself. No longer was he devoted to his naps, the horrors in his mind overtaking him with sleep. He was listless, rather than lazy. Any traces of exuberance that had trickled over to him from Lillinette seemed utterly purged, and all he could do now was try to recall how it had felt to be whole.

That was the state of affairs in Coyote Stark's world, and in the months that followed the end of the war he had a nasty suspicion that it was to be the remainder of his existence.

And then, rather abruptly, things began to change.

xXx

Staring down at the pile of paperwork in front of him, Stark acknowledge wryly that at least this was better than taking on the new recruits. He wasn't sure what the purpose of the Soul Reaper Academy was, but judging from the skills, or lack thereof, that had been demonstrated yesterday, he would suggest that said purpose was decidedly _not_ being fulfilled. Still, the simplicity of paperwork meant that his mind was free to wander, which in turn only drew attention to the fact that there were no safe places in his thoughts for it to venture.

At least, not if he wanted to make Ulquiorra look like the life and soul of the party.

Snorting to himself (at least his sense of humour was somewhat intact), Stark shook his head and glanced over the forms once more, only to be interrupted when a series of very loud thuds clearly issued from his captain's office. Pausing, he weighed his options.

_To enter or not to enter? Captain Kuchiki _is _more than capable of taking care of himself, and the last time I thought I was coming to the rescue I did interrupt a rather intimate moment between he and Captain Abarai. _

_Which my mind still hasn't sufficiently recovered from. _

Raising his gloved hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, Stark tried to simultaneously stem the flow of mental images and ignore the sound of splintering furniture coming from the office next to his.

_Almost as scarring as that time I walked into that exam room in the Fourth. I'll admit, that was about what I would expect from Captain Zaraki, but Captain Unohana seemed such a genteel woman…_

_What is it Shunsui says? Ah – Mind soap. I need mind soap._

_And to possibly do something about whatever is going on in there._

The decision, however, was taken out of his hands. A dishevelled and disgruntled Byakuya Kuchiki opened the door, hurling something large and pink across the room before turning to his startled lieutenant. The noble mask slipped back into place as the other man spoke, in a voice that seemed to be missing his usual calm, "Lieutenant Stark, if you keep the pink-haired demon occupied and out of my office for at least the next hour, I will personally take over work with the new recruits."

With only the slightest twinge of hesitation that suggested he should learn a little more about what he was getting into, Stark nodded his acceptance.

_It can't be worse than watching yet another batch of failed kido backfire and set everyone's hair on fire or turn any witnesses purple. It was amusing the first couple of times, but it does not improve with familiarity._

"Excellent", Byakuya muttered, slamming the door shut, just as his projectile started to rise and give vent to its feelings.

"Fuck you, Byakushi! You're no fun no more." Straightening up, his charge wheeled around to glare at him. "Whaddaya staring at?"

He _was_ staring. For a few seconds, hearing just her voice and its sheer rude defiance, he had thought –

He shook himself, taking in the young woman in front of him. She looked nothing like Lillinette, he could see that now. She was petite, though there was strength in her slender limbs, with wavy bubblegum-pink hair and wide brown eyes that were currently on the ferocious side. But her attitude and the way she held herself were so familiar it almost hurt to look at them.

_Alike, and yet unlike. _

He blinked, struggling to find words. "Forgive me for staring…" He caught sight of the armband she bore, "Lieutenant." Clearing his throat, he tried again. "My apologies. You just remind me… of someone", he finished lamely, trying to wrap his mind around what he was seeing and grasping at the one coherent thought he had left. "Have we met? I thought I'd been introduced to all the lieutenants."

She tilted her head to one side, her anger apparently dissipating. "Huh? Oh, well I been on a mission with Ken-chan. Things to see, shit to kill. All that jazz, y'know?"

Stark assented that he did indeed know, though perhaps not so much about the jazz. "So, you would be the lieutenant of the Eleventh?"

She nodded vigorously, her hair catching the light. It seemed almost iridescent, like a dragonfly's wing. "Damn straight." Removing her hand from the hilt of her zanpakuto, she stuck it out to him in greeting. "Yachiru Kusajishi."

He took it. "A pleasure to meet you." It occurred to him that, for the first time in a very long time, he actually meant it.

She was giving him the strangest look, almost as though she were appraising him, though she didn't seem to be finding him wanting. That thought cheered him more than it really should have. Abruptly, she broke off from her staring, and re-started their conversation. "So, you're one o' the new arrancar on our side?"

"You would have to hope so", he remarked dryly, "given that I am now sitting here in a position of authority."

She laughed at that, before sobering and shaking her head. "Nah, I just mean - " She broke off, as if she were trying to find the right words. "You don't remember me from before, do you?" It struck him as odd, but there was a note of hope in that question.

Racking his brains, he eventually replied, "I think I remember seeing you and your captain on the battlefield, though you were somewhat younger looking."

"But we didn't meet, did we? I don't think we did, but it pays t' check", she finished in a mutter.

With no small amount of confusion, Stark simply replied in the negative. Instantly, she seemed to relax, grinning at him and lunging forward to perch herself on his desk. For some reason, he almost felt as though he'd passed some sort of test.

"Cool", she chirped, looking over his paperwork. "You actually do that stuff?"

"Paperwork?" He replied with some bewilderment. "Aren't we all supposed to?"

She grinned mischievously. "Yeah, but no one expects it from the Eleventh. The last time Ken-chan tried to do some, shit got nasty. He hospitalised anyone who annoyed him that day." Crossing her legs, she settled herself on her newfound desk seat. "Anyway, I'm glad you're Byakushi's lieutenant. I wanted to meet you after the war, but everyone seemed to think Ken-chan'd try and fight you, so none of the Eleventh were allowed."

From what he recalled, the Eleventh were a particularly bloodthirsty division, and their captain went above and beyond that. He also recalled that 'Ken-chan', Lieutenant Jeagerjacques and Captain Kurosaki had been involved in an in incident that directly preceded the Eleventh Division captain's mission to elsewhere, which he suspected was a very apt demonstration of cause and effect. Still, he felt called upon to supply something and, in a moment of what could only be considered insanity, he replied with, "Well, I don't know if he'd consider me much of a challenge, but if you want, I can find time to give, uh, Ken-chan his fight."

At these simple words, she lit up. "Awesome! Usually I gotta chase down Ken-chan's fight friends myself. When d'ya think you'll be free?"

And, just like that, he'd made a friend.

xXx

She came around, ostensibly to annoy 'Byakushi', at least twice a week, but after a brief yell at his captain, she always settled herself down happily on her particular place on his desk, watching him complete paperwork and just talking about whatever came into her head.

Which, as it turned out, was a good deal more than anyone thought.

Contrary to popular belief, she was perfectly aware of the relationship between Captains Unohana and Zaraki or, as she called them, Backwards Braid Lady and Ken-chan, simply stating that, if Ken-chan'd wanted to keep it a secret, he should have moved somewhere with thicker walls. She didn't have a problem with it (though it'd be nice if they could keep it down sometimes – a shinigami had to sleep, after all), but it hurt that her pseudo-father wouldn't tell her.

"They think I'm still a child", she murmured sadly one day, as he looked at her questioningly. "All of them. They got so used to the idea that I would never get big that they dunno how to deal with me now that I have. They treat me like I'm still who I was, and I can't seem to explain it to them. That's why I like talkin' to you – you just know me as I am and you don't treat me weird." Staring up at him, she smiled.

Tentatively, he asked, "What did happen?"

She sighed, her face grim. "It was during that last battle. You remember Barragan, right?" She caught the look he gave her. "Course you do. Well, you remember what his attacks were."

"Ah." Stark had a feeling he finally understood. "He aged you."

"Ken-chan and Ninja Girl were fighting him and his Fraccion, so us lieutenants were there too. He decided we were weaker targets, so he aimed for us to get us outta the way, y'know? Well, Omeada took the brunt of it", she continued dispassionately, "and it killed him. I only got the traces, but it was enough." She stopped, and when she began again, her eyes were haunted and her voice quiet. "It didn't just age my body, but my mind too, all at once. You have no idea what it feels like to feel that part of you stripped away as you're forced forward and upward too fast."

"I think I can understand", Stark replied softly, holding up his hand when she began to protest, knowing exactly what she would say.

_How could you know? _

_Empty words._

Don't_ pity me. Anything but that._

Oh yes, he knew exactly what she was thinking. He was probably the only person alive who _did_ understand, so he was used to being disappointed with what followed after that despised sentence.

"Just hear me out, Yachiru. Please"

Clearing his throat, he began, each word out of his mouth making him feel lighter, freer, somehow.

"I am no longer the Primera Espada…"

xXx

Seasons changed, and suddenly war was upon them again. The true impact of the loss of Lillinette, which he had done his best to reveal only to the necessary parties, was now out in the open, looks of pity and _understanding_ everywhere he went.

Needless to say, Stark hated it with a passion.

There were few people he could tolerate now. His captain was one – the stoic noble seemed to guess how he felt, and had known his situation long enough to realise that it was better to leave it alone. Shunsui and Jyuushiro were all right, because they'd gotten over their sympathy phase. And, of course…

She sat on his desk, legs dangling over the edge. The pose looked somewhat more risqué in her as an adult as it would have when she was a child, but he knew better than to bring it up and risk upsetting her. An upset Yachiru, he had learned, went above and beyond an upset Lillinette. The property damage, at the very least, was far more extensive, though at least his own anatomy was spared.

The two young women in his life were different, he could see that clearly now, but that didn't make him any less grateful that this one in particular had wormed her way into his existence. Better yet, she had brought the fire and exuberance and sense of fun that he had lost, and he found that he was regaining little pieces of himself everyday. For the first time, he allowed himself to hope that he would do more than merely exist.

Currently, however, he contented himself with watching her as she folded his completed paperwork into planes and threw them through his captain's door. Captain Kuchiki had yet to complain about this method of delivery, and that was as good as an invitation as far as Yachiru was concerned. Stark suspected that 'Byakushi' just wanted to keep out of her way. He handed her yet another form, only to have her frown, and place it back down on the table.

"This sucks."

Anyone else, anyone who had spent less time with her, might have assumed that this statement was directed at that specific form, or even her current location and occupation, but he knew better.

Running his gloved hand through his dark, shaggy hair, he simply returned blithely, "If it's any consolation, you're hardly the only one who feels that way. The only person looking forward to all out war is, I believe, the great Ken-chan himself, and that's probably only because he found me such an unsatisfactory opponent and is in dire need of others."

She snorted, shaking her head. "Not even Ken-chan's enjoying this. He told me about the last captain's meeting. Apparently half o' them almost released their swords against the Captain-Commander over the whole Vizard thing."

"Colour me unsurprised", he growled. "The Vizard deserve to be left in peace. They suffered enough during the last battle."

"Yeah, well that was the gist of the yelling", Yachiru pointed out, crossing her legs as she drew them up to rest on the desk. "He's backed off about Strawberry going to visit them an' ask 'em about fighting, but he's still sending a group in to talk to other allies." She looked thoughtful. "I guess this means that the Quincy guy with the pole up his ass and his girlfriend with the big boobs will be coming back. And that guy who's almost as tall as Ken-chan an' punches better than Pachinko Head."

Matching the descriptions with the actual names attached, Stark nodded, leaning back in his chair and grimacing. "Yes, that sounds about right. Won't that be something to look forward to?"

"No", she whispered, shuddering slightly.

He frowned. "Yachiru?"

"I'm scared", she continued, her face pinched and eyes downcast. "I can't talk to anyone at the Eleventh 'bout it coz', well, it's the Eleventh. Nemu doesn't understand fear, an' everyone else is jus' as freaked out. But it's different with me. I ain't afraid o' battle. I'm afraid that somethin'll happen, and I'll change again. It's been so lonely this year. I mean, you're good to talk to, and Nemu hasn't changed, but everyone else doesn't know what to be like around me, so they avoid me. It's only jus' started to go back t' normal", she finished, her voice barely audible and her small frame shaking as she rested her face in her hands.

Being part of Aizen's elite forces had done nothing to teach him how to comfort young women, Stark lamented, but some sort of instinct seemed to take over. Carefully, he rose from behind the desk and stepped around, settling himself down beside her and tentatively placing an arm around her shoulders. She instantly leaned into him, which he took as a sign that he was doing the right thing. Deciding that he was clearly on a roll, he spoke.

"Even if you get bigger, you're still Yachiru. I don't think any change you undergo could possibly alter that. Besides, in the event that you do transform somehow, and let's keep in mind that it's fairly unlikely, people aren't as hung up on the one idea of you now. A change won't be so bizarre to them this time around, so you won't get so many people avoiding you."

She looked up at him with decidedly watery eyes and a wan smile. "You reckon so?"

"Damn straight", he replied, inwardly wincing at the fact that some of her more unfortunate sayings had grown on him. "You'll always be Yachiru at the heart of things, no matter how different you look outside."

Her smile grew slightly, and dimples appeared. "Thanks Mopey-chan."

"You could thank me by not calling me that", he muttered dryly.

She scoffed, and he smiled at the familiar sound. "As if."

Stark sighed. "Yes, I was afraid that your response would be along those lines. I could always threaten to follow Byakush – I mean, Captain Kuchiki's lead, and start calling you 'the pink-haired demon'."

Straightening up and surreptitiously wiping her face, she grinned. "That's an empty threat if I ever heard one." Her eyes narrowed as her grin widened. "However, you tell anyone 'bout this, and I will end you. Sorry, but it's the standard Eleventh Division warning for when you've seen us in a compromising position. An' I warn you - it ain't an empty threat."

He blinked. "Of course. How could I have ever thought otherwise?"

With a wave and laugh, she flashed away, leaving him to contemplate the wisdom of getting involved with _anyone_ from the Eleventh. It was hardly the sort of thing, after all, that would be considered a smart decision.

Stark shrugged, going back to his paperwork with a faint smile, and resigned himself to the fact that he'd never been one for making smart decisions in the first place.

xXx

**Yes, I'm aiming in a Stark/Yachiru direction, which will be realised at a later date. Yes, I'm insane. I'm a crack (pairing) addict – I need help, not censure!**

**Oh, and reviews. I totally need reviews too.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I am the walrus, you are the egg-man, this is the disclaimer… Not mine.**

**Listening to: Mumford and Sons – 'Thistles and Weeds'.**

Chapter Four

It was a little ironic that, despite the fact that he had more than atoned for his sins over the past hundred years, Shinji Hirako now found himself in a personal hell. Worse still – it was largely his own fault he was there in the first place.

He'd always had – well, not a soft spot, per se (he reserved that honour for his 'first loves') – but a sympathy of sorts, a sense of kinship with Ichigo despite the differences in where their loyalties lay. So it had hurt him to see Ichigo standing there in front of him, hands nervously clutching the edges of his newly given captain's haori and frown lines even deeper than they had been three years ago. It had hurt even more when Shinji's suspicions about the increase in hollow activity were confirmed – when Ichigo told him that the Soul Society were at war again and in need of allies.

He'd sat then or, rather, slid down onto the steps of his bolt-hole, the flat he rarely stirred from anymore, as the reluctant pupil he'd called 'Strawberry' explained how he and most of the captains had fought the General to get the Vizard's pardons legitimised (Was that even a victory? Shinji didn't know anymore), telling him that they were no longer beholden to anyone and were not going to be ordered into battle unless they chose it (though their assistance would be welcomed). The speech smacked of over-rehearsal and all the while he'd been saying it, Ichigo had looked as though he would be sick which, funnily enough, was not too far off what Shinji himself was feeling.

The younger Vizard had waited for a response then, though judging from his expression he did not expect it to be a positive one. Shinji elected to give him none at all, simply waiting until he felt less nauseous. Ichigo had shrugged awkwardly, and quietly added, "No one but the General wants to see you back in the fray. I mean, sure, we could use the help, but we've got other allies, ones that are willing. No one's gonna blame you for keeping out of it."

Shinji kept his mouth shut. He still had the feeling that if he opened his mouth either screaming, hysterical laughter or vomit would ensue, and none of these were attractive options. Tentatively, Ichigo continued.

"I also need to know where the others are." The expression on Shinji's face said it all. "Fuck – don't look at me like that, Shinji! You think I'd do this if I had a choice? I've got orders, and I've gotta - "

"I'll do it."

" – track down each – wait. What?"

Closing his eyes and accepting the fact that he was a masochist who clearly needed to keep his mouth shut, Shinji repeated, "I'll do it. It's better, coming from me. At least they know that I understand. Can't promise a thing, though. Not even sure what I'm choosing at this point."

Ichigo had looked at him searchingly for a long time, before nodding and telling him to get the willing to meet at Urahara's old place in two days.

Not even he could conceal how doubtful that sounded.

xXx

That night as he stepped, swiftly passing through the miles, Shinji wondered what had possessed him to put himself through this type of torture.

Masochism as a theory aside, he could only suppose that it was his usually suppressed sense of nobility coming to the fore, which was clearly a lesson to him – he needed to bury that impulse much deeper, for his own safety. Ichigo was a grown (ish) shinigami – he didn't need Shinji to spare him from seeing the Vizard as they were now. Or perhaps the idleness of the last three years had urged him on and this was just a need to seek something challenging.

Or maybe, he thought as he approached the first door, just maybe he had missed them all too much to keep away any longer.

xXx

What followed was the worst forty-eight hours of Shinji's life, and he'd had plenty of lousy two-day periods to judge from.

Somehow, though, this had topped changing species, nearly dying and being exiled, being told that Love's death was merely the result of 'friendly fire' (the result of him wearing his mask in battle in front of newbies who didn't know any better), and picking up the pieces of Mashiro to give her a proper burial. Maybe it was worse because this had brought all these memories to the fore, as well as making painful new ones at the same time.

Either way, Shinji was not enjoying it.

Rose had been about what he expected – mirthless laughter followed by the order to 'get the fuck out'. Hell, that was a reasonable and calm response, as far as Shinji was concerned.

Lisa had just stared at him, slapped him as soon as he'd finished speaking, then slammed the door on his face (Yes, _on_, not in. He'd stood just that little bit too close).

Hachi had been better. Shinji had come up on his blind side and sat down next to him, which had given him a bit of a scare, but they'd managed not to resort to violence. Sure, Hachi wasn't the violent type in the first place, but there wasn't a lot that Shinji felt he could be sure of these days, so any reprieve his face got was welcome (his nose was swelling impressively from Lisa's door until Hachi had used healing kido on it). In response to Ichigo's question though, all Hachi did was go very quiet, before whispering, "I just don't know anymore."

Kensei had brought back the sick/hysterical feeling again. His apartment was spare, devoid of all ornament except for the blood-spattered lieutenant's badge and pair of goggles that sat on the bedside table. The man himself sat on the bed, staring at Shinji as he entered before turning his gaze back to these last relics of their friend, the shadows under his eyes and the gauntness of his face saying what words couldn't. Shinji hadn't even bothered with the Ichigo's speech – Kensei wasn't fighting or talking for anyone. He'd left, closing the door on that too-silent house.

What the Captain-Commander didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The worst, however, was Hiyori. He had expected nothing less.

As soon as she'd opened the door and looked at him, he felt like he was choking. All he could see were the white scars on her neck and left cheek, such a contrast against her tanned skin and a bitter reminder that illusion-swords had bite. Faced with that, he wanted to spare her, as he had Kensei, as he had Ichigo. He couldn't speak.

It hadn't mattered. The second she'd processed the look on his face, she knew.

So she started screaming.

She railed at the heavens (and him) for almost an hour, ignoring the gathering of appalled and curious humans who would blink in confusion when she mentioned things like shinigami, Soul Society, arrancar and Hueco Mundo. Eventually he tried to get her inside, grabbing her wrists when she tried to fight him off, only to have her collapse against him, sobbing her heart out.

He might have only seen it twice in over a hundred years, but Hiyori crying was still one of the most devastating sights Shinji had been faced with. Any attempts to comfort her with a hug or even a pat on the arm were fought off, so he quit after the fourth punch to the face, simply sitting across from her on the fire escape as she curled into a ball and continued to weep.

The crowd probably thought that this was some sort of bizarre lovers' tiff, Shinji thought almost hysterically, trying to contain giggles as it occurred to him that they were a little correct. He and Hiyori had stayed friends throughout their time together, but there was always a vague undercurrent of something else, something more… which they had elected to leave very much alone. Hiyori wasn't the type to tolerate straying, and Shinji was no good at staying in the one place or with the one woman.

That, and she'd never asked him to.

Still, he thought as the sobs started to subside, perhaps a relationship-based argument would have been easier to deal with – he always had the answers to those, but here he was flying blind. He toyed with the idea of getting out now, before she started throwing things, only to realise that opportunity had long passed.

Hiyori was staring straight at him, with what could only be described as murderous rage.

"Why the fuck are you here?"

The sheer amount of venom loading into that question made Shinji flinch, as he regarded her and tried to find the words. Apparently, though, Hiyori didn't require a second person at this point in the conversation.

"Are you those bastards' errand boy, now? Lickin' their fucking boots in the hopes of some mercy? They _murdered_ Love. Shot him in the back with a kido cannon, all 'coz no one explained to the rank and file that we were allies since our fearless fucking Captain-Commander didn't want to _confuse the issue_!"

She was back to shouting again. He couldn't blame her.

"They stranded us without reinforcements, just in time for that rat-faced bastard Ichimaru to make mincemeat of Mashiro, and you've gone back to them, helping them deliver their fucking mail, of all things. You here to round us up, Shinji? Fetching all your little Vizard friends so we can finish a war this time?"

Oh yes, the sick/hysterical feeling was back with a vengeance. This time, though, Shinji couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"No one's forcing you to do a Kami-damned thing, Hiyori, which you'd know if you just fucking listened to me", he roared back, momentarily stunning her into silence. Knowing that this was all the opening he'd get, he pressed on. "We're officially pardoned and honourably discharged. They sent Ichigo to tell us we had a choice, but I figured it'd be easier coming from me, so excuse me for trying to fucking help. We're out, Hiyori. Don't have to do a damn thing if we don't want to."

"Yeah?" She shot back, "Who the fuck did they think would want to? After the shit they pulled, no one's coming back to help _them_. You shoulda just told them that and had 'em leave us alone."

"I couldn't", Shinji began, as he had a rather nasty epiphany. "I couldn't, because that'd be a lie."

She started, her eyes wide. "You're going back." Shaking her head in disbelief, she gave a laugh that was just this side of hysterical. "Why in the fuck would you want to do that? To go help that bunch of traitorous, damn - "

"Because as much as I would gladly strangle the old man, there are people there that I care for, people I want to see make it through this", Shinji murmured. "Can't do that from over here." He looked up at her, willing her to understand. "After everything Kisuke and Yoruichi did for us when all that shit went down, are you really gonna just leave them in the lurch?"

As pale as her scars now, Hiyori whispered, "Shut up."

He shook his head, continuing, "What about Ichigo? He's one of us, almost got into a fight with the General to get us our pardons. We gonna just leave him to die, too?"

"Shut up."

"And his friends? Qunicy's have had just as much shit to deal with from the Soul Society as we have, but that Ishida kid still fights for them. Mightn't like 'em, but it's the right thing to do."

"Shinji, shut up." There was a tremor in her voice now, that hadn't been there when she'd started.

"All the other captains? The ones from the old days, who sent us what they could to help us along. We gonna abandon Retsu, Shunsui and Jyuushiro, too?"

"Stop it, Shinji, just - "

"And it won't stop there, Hiyori." He was relentless now, getting to the point he was sure she'd understand. "They're aiming for what Aizen wanted again – the throne. That means the King, and it means the King's Guard. Is Captain Hikifune not worth helpin' any…"

He knew from the look on her face that mentioning that name had been going too far. Some wounds just didn't heal, and Hiyori's old captain and mother figure 'abandoning' her for a position in the King's Guard was one of them. It didn't matter that when the King's Guard requested you, it wasn't really a choice – Hiyori wouldn't listen to reason and Shinji doubted whether reason would make the loss any less painful. Either way, it had always been an unspoken rule among the Vizard to keep that name unmentioned. As he watched something in Hiyori's face go to pieces, Shinji finally understood why.

"Get out." Her voice was barely a whisper now, but he could hear the rage, the grief and the menace behind it clearly.

"Hiyori, I - "

He only just dodged the kido in time.

"GET OUT!"

He fled into the night, wishing that he had learned at some point when to keep his big mouth shut and trying to forget the anguish on her face.

xXx

The day they were to meet at the Urahara shop was bright and cheerful. Naturally, Shinji hated it.

Ichigo had taken one look at his face when he returned, and had proceeded to start apologising, which in turn had just made Shinji all the more determined to drink the next day out of existence. Still, he was here now – awake and semi-functioning. He supposed that would have to do, seeing as that was all the Soul Society were going to get –

Except, apparently, it wasn't.

Hachi was the first in. He gave Shinji a faint smile, before slipping into the shop, conversing quietly with Ichigo.

Shinji was still blinking in disbelief when Rose sauntered in, looking for all the world as though he'd merely wandered off the street by accident. He'd nodded to his fellow ex-captain, and muttered something about how annoying it was when Shinji was right.

Five minutes later, Lisa sashayed past, her face a little grimmer than it typically was. He got a terse apology for the door and his face, and a remark that there hadn't been much to mess up in that area anyway, as she too joined the team in the shop.

Hours passed as he sat on the steps, enslaved to the faint hope that this wasn't the last of them and that Hiyori would show up, even if it was just to smack him in the mouth for bringing up someone she still tried to forget, for reopening the old wound. Shinji had just about given up and was heading in to see what the hell had the others so occupied, when he felt the spiritual pressure behind him, one that he knew as well as his own. Eyes wide, he turned to face her.

Hiyori stalked past him on the way to the door, nose in the air as she rammed into his shoulder with her own, grating out, "I'm in."

Shock paralysed him, leaving him staring into space. She'd come. Of course, that still didn't mean that she wasn't going to smack him in the face sometime in the very near future, but at least that would be a sign that they were back to normal –

The all too familiar shoe smacked into his head from behind.

"Baldie, get your ass in here! We got plans to make."

As a door slammed behind him, he leaned forward to pick the shoe up out of the dirt, grinning first, and then laughing, laughing truly, without hysteria, the way he used to.

Apparently, he was forgiven.

Still smiling, he walked toward the shop, determined to return the sandal to its owner.

xXx

**Bleargh. My brain is fuzzy. A pox on all universities. Now every single one that I applied to is sending me enrolment materials except, of course, for the one I really want to attend. I wash my hands of the whole business.**

**So, this wasn't even on the list of chapters I planned, but it just sprung into my head and wouldn't leave. Shinji can be insistent that way.**

**Anyhoodle, let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Ok, you got me. It ain't mine.**

**Most of these chapters have been a little on the depressing side (well, they **_**are**_** all at war right now), so I thought I'd lighten things up with a little Kira/Momo action. Enjoy!**

**Listening to: Tegan and Sara – 'Hell' and Goldfrapp – 'Train'.**

Chapter Five

"I don't think I can do this."

The sword spirit regarded her wielder with the air of someone who had sat through this conversation repeatedly and was desperately hoping that this would be the last time. With a sigh, Tobiume tucked a strand of hair back into place, rising from her kneeling position and dusting her kimono off. It wasn't that Tobiume didn't like spending time with her mistress – she did. Momo was, as she had repeatedly told Haineko after any disparaging comments, a nice lady. It was a bit like having a big sister, except for the fact that Momo came to _her_ for advice, which worked out fine because Tobiume liked to help. But this problem had been going on too long, in her opinion, and Momo had been too busy panicking or moping about the situation to take in anything she had to offer. Tobiume hated to think it, but it was possible that her wielder was being a bit of an idiot about this, and she was getting a little tired of offering constant reassurance. With a deep breath, she tried again in her soft, slightly lisping voice.

"You're a senior lieutenant of the Gotei 13. You have called forth my spirit successfully and commanded me to serve you. You were able to break free of the deep hypnosis your former captain had you under. If you can do all that, I'm sure you can try to win a man's heart, and if your Kira-kun cannot see how wonderful you are, he isn't worth it." She was loath to give any credit to Haineko, but she had overheard the spirit saying just that to a rather disconsolate Sode no Shirayuki and it had made sense to Tobiume.

Not that Haineko was right. No, clearly she'd just overheard someone intelligent and passed the thought off as her own. Kami knew, Haineko wasn't bright enough to come up with that pearl of wisdom on her own, and if Kami had any doubts, Tobiume would be happy to set him or her straight. Shaking her head, Tobiume decided to leave all thought of her obnoxious fellow spirit alone and focus on the matter at hand.

Momo still looked wistful and sad. "He's not my Kira-kun. And I did those things as Momo the Lieutenant, not necessarily as Momo the Woman. I had other people to think about and protect, and that spurred me on. This is different."

"You still have that courage within you", Tobiume urged, "and the plan is good. I know it's making you nervous and that it's different to how you'd normally act, but the idea is simple enough. What's stopping you?"

Momo glared back at the serious little girl, who continued to stare at her solemnly. "You sound just like Nemu. It's not like I haven't tried - "

Tobiume snorted, sounding her age for once. Being kind and supportive wasn't helping. Her mistress needed a kick in the behind to get her moving. It was clearly time to alter her tactics, even if it meant channelling her Haineko-rage and aiming it at an innocent victim. "Nemu is right. And you are as woefully inept at flirting as you are at telling him how you feel. Kira very obviously has no idea that you think of him as anything more than a friend."

Momo gaped, blushed and turned away. Tobiume instantly wanted to take it back, but bit her tongue. This needed to be done. "As if you would know a thing about flirting", Momo muttered under her breath and, she thought, out of earshot. "Not only are you technically an inanimate object, but you look about six an – ow! That's my hair!"

Her grim firm on Momo's bangs, Tobiume forced their eyes to meet. "You are my chosen wielder and I care for you, but I am sick of hearing the same old miserable internal monologue. You are going to do something about these feelings – something _other than_ moping – and then I am going to breathe a sigh of relief because I won't have to hear about it anymore and things won't be so dark and miserable and rainy here."

Stunned by her zanpakuto's outburst, Momo stuttered, "It's not going to work. He doesn't see me like – hair! Dammit Tobiume, I'm not Haineko!"

With one last tug, Tobiume let go. "The plan should change how he sees you. If it doesn't work, you will be allowed to mope in a reasonable fashion. But I think you underestimate yourself. Either way, you'll never know if you don't try. It's a good plan."

Rubbing her scalp, Momo stood up. "Ok, I get it, I get it", she murmured apologetically, "I'm sorry I've made things unpleasant in your home. I didn't know."

Tobiume flashed her mistress a small smile. "You can make it up to me by agreeing to try Nemu's idea."

"You're incorrigible." Throwing up her hands, Momo admitted defeat. "Fine, I'll go through with it. Things go wrong and it's your fault, though."

Tobiume nodded, still smiling. "Sounds fair. Now, out. You have things to do, after all." She got one last glare from her wielder, before Momo lay back and closed her eyes, ready to break her trance and return to her world, Tobiume's call of 'good luck' echoing in her ears. Momo woke up to find herself staring at Nemu's inquiring expression and the ceiling of her quarters. Sitting up, she stretched and replied to the unanswered question.

"The little traitor agreed with you. You'd think a fragment of my own soul would take my side, but not so. Apparently I've been making it rain." A disgruntled frown on her face, Momo shook her head. "I've never seen her get cranky with me like that before."

A faint smile flickered across Nemu's face. "Very well. In that case, we should begin our work."

Resigning herself to her fate, Momo rolled her eyes. "Operation 'Death to the Girl Next Door' has begun."

xXx

To be fair, the name was Momo's idea and the product of an interesting drinking session with Shuuhei-sempai. She'd been bewailing her dateless state and questioning why a girl like her couldn't seem to interest any of the men she knew. Momo was perfectly aware that she was no Rangiku Matsumoto, but she wasn't unattractive either. She got along well with all the men she met, so that wasn't the issue. She just didn't understand where she was going wrong. All the while Shuuhei had looked uncomfortable, but it wasn't an 'I don't want to hear my female friend talk about this' type of uncomfortable. Momo was well versed in her friend and mentor's moods, and she knew this was an 'I know something but don't want to say it' uncomfortable, so she did what any woman intent on gathering information would do.

She bought the next five rounds.

About an hour later, a thoroughly intoxicated Shuuhei was explaining the source of her woes to her, as she sat wide-eyed in shock.

The sad fact was, he slurred, that Momo was a good girl. You could take her home to meet your parents, be her best friend or treat her like the little sister you never had. She wasn't wild or outrageous. She dressed fairly demurely. Essentially, she was the archetypal sweet little girl next door and, therefore, untouchable.

She hated the whole concept with a passion as soon as he'd finished clarifying it.

Oh, there were elements she didn't mind, she supposed. She liked having a lot of male friends, even if they did get overprotective at times. Still, while she had no desire to become the Soul Society's latest siren, it would have been nice if people could stop seeing her as the 'GND', as Nemu had started referring to it, and realise that she was a grown woman and capable of acting and being treated like one.

And by people, she chiefly meant Kira Izuru – her fellow lieutenant, one of her best friends and the man she was in love with.

To Kira, she was delicate, innocent and chaste. He was always a perfect gentleman with Momo. Unfortunately this had made their recent interactions somewhat awkward, as she never felt any of those things with him around and her favourite daydreams involved him doing some entirely un-gentlemanly things to her. Wishful thinking, true, but a girl could dream.

Oh, there were some good points to being in love with one of your best friends, she supposed. She always got to spend time with him, and he clearly enjoyed her company. Their conversations were never stilted or full of awkward pauses, but were all laughter and good-natured banter. She knew almost everything about him and he was just as well informed about her. All the same, she was constantly fighting back the desire to point out that she wasn't a naïve little academy student anymore but a woman, dammit, and she wanted to be treated like one.

Which, of course, was the entire reasoning behind the plan.

She wasn't ready to just waltz up to Kira and admit her feelings. Hell, she wasn't sure if she'd ever be ready to do that without at least a little encouragement, but that was bedside the point. What Momo _was_ ready to do was sex-up her image a little. Nothing ridiculous – anything too different just wouldn't be her – but she wanted to put the foolish girl she had been behind her, and a few wardrobe changes and a crash course in flirting from Rangiku-san were enough of a step forward to matter, without taking her entirely out of her comfort zone.

Armed with her new knowledge and a slinky red dress that hugged to what little curve she had, Momo was going out on the town.

She could only pray that it didn't end in disaster.

xXx

It was saying something, coming from someone who had served under ex-Captain Gin Ichimaru, but Kira Izuru was positive that there was no torture in three worlds more exquisite than being in love with one's best friend.

Except, perhaps, that of listening to an intoxicated Shuuhei Hisagi as he tried to console you and help you move on. The captain of the Ninth Division liked to believe that he could handle his liquor, but the reality, Kira found, was far short of expectations.

"Whatcha need", the new captain began, "is t' find someone new. Someone to take ya mind off of her."

Heaving a sigh, Kira turned to face him and replied dryly, "I'm getting that. You know, seeing as this is now the third time you've imparted that particular gem of wisdom to me in the space of ten minutes."

Frowning, Shuuhei swayed slightly in his seat. "Huh. Well, point remains. You gotta move on, Kira. Or do somethin' 'bout it."

Kira fixed him with a baleful stare. "I love her, Shuuhei. You don't just move on from that. And she's been my friend for almost as long as I can remember – I can't mess that up with some ill-guided attempt at hitting on her!"

Shuuhei made a noise that was supposed to be a snort but came out as more of an example of severe olfactory distress. Kira rolled his eyes and moved his drink out of Shuuhei's reach. It was best to remove temptation at this point in the evening.

"I know, I know. I should talk to her, but I'm no good at that sort of thing!"

Rolling his eyes, Shuuhei replied as he tried to reach for Kira's scotch, only to have it shifted away from him once more. "Don' be silly. It's simple, talkin' to girls. You just go up an' say, 'Hey there, I'm Kira Izuru. I like moonlit strolls, staring longingly at my best friend and throwing darts at a picture of my old captain.' Or if you don't wanna go 'nice guy', there's always the chauvinist pig intro – 'Hey, I'm Kira Izuru, Lieutenant Kira Izuru. Wanna see my zanpakuto?'" He considered this, before adding, "Helps if you add a wink, just so they know you ain't really talking about the sword. Course, not sure what you'd say to Momo, seeing as you already know her, but I'll try and come up with something."

Aghast, Kira stared at his friend, before returning, in a faint, hoarse voice, "Shuuhei, please stop trying to help me. Better yet, don't ever try to help me when you're drunk again." Shuddering eloquently, he cursed the fact that he was friends with a man who lost all sense of social decency after two pints. At least he knew that Shuuhei would never actually speak like that to a woman sober and sane, but drunken Shuuhei was a terrifying force. "No wonder I can't talk to women – you, of all people, are my mentor!"

A little dazed by the change in position of Kira's drink, Shuuhei blinked and shrugged. "It's Momo. You talk to her all the time. An' Kira, you gotta move fast. She's been talkin' to me 'bout getting into the dating scene."

Kira had always thought people exaggerated their reactions to shock. After all, no one's blood _actually_ ran cold – or so he'd believed. He was rapidly reconsidering his conclusions. "Really?" He inquired in a strangled voice.

"Yeah. Wanted to know why she couldn't seem to pick up. Had to think fast to avoid tellin' her that all the guys around here know that if they hit on her, you'd kill 'em." Shuuhei stopped and contemplated this. "Or, ya know, just write them a strongly worded letter. Or look so damn miserable that they'd feel bad about it for th' rest o' their lives. Point is, no one's gonna try it on with your girl. People like you – they're not gonna pull lousy shit like that."

"She's not mine", Kira sighed. "And you make me sound like the equivalent of a kicked puppy."

"It's th' eyes", Shuuhei insisted.

"Right", Kira drawled. "So, what did you end up telling her?"

"Huh? Oh, that. Told her she came 'cross as too much of a nice girl, which is pretty much true too. She needed to dirty things up."

Once again, Kira was left staring at his friend and mentor in utter horror. He'd always known that there were sides to Momo he was unfamiliar with, largely because he was her friend and pseudo brother and therefore not potential partner material. It wasn't that the idea of an edgier Momo bothered him… No, far from it. In fact, the room was now feeling far too warm and crowded as he thought about the concept. An image change was quite a thing to consider, but Momo in a sexy pair of heels and a skirt that showed off the legs that Kira had caught glimpses of over the years was absolutely fine by him.

_Very fine, in point of fact…_

Blinking, Kira tried to return to his original train of thought.

_Right. 'Dirtier' Momo. Oh Kami. No – focus. I'm used to thinking of Momo like that, but no one else is… I hope. In either case, they're not going to know what hit them. The men of the Seireitei might have been willing to accommodate me when she was like one of their little sisters, but that's going to change. _

_Shit. Shuuhei was right – I need to move fast. _

_Or just work on moving at all. Kami, I'm screwed._

His train of thought was broken by Shuuhei's slurred, "Oi Renji, you fucker. Get over here!"

The redhead made his way over with a rather dazed expression on his face, and sat beside his fellow captain, frowning at the empty bottle of beer in front of Shuuhei. With a resigned sigh, Renji mouthed to Kira, 'How many?', only to have three fingers held up as his response. Renji groaned, staring at Shuuhei as he swayed, glassy-eyed, "We're gonna hafta get him out soon, aren't we?"

Smilingly wryly, Kira replied, "The thought had crossed my mind. Anyway, what caught your eye before we did? You looked like you'd just seen Captain Zaraki making daisy chains, or something equally unlikely."

The casual question had an unusual effect on his friend. Renji turned pale under his tan and stammered out, "Oh, that? It's just, uh, Momo's here an' I didn't think she'd be."

His brow furrowed and the rest of him decidedly confused, Kira inquired, "What do you mean? She's usually - "

"Hot damn!" Shuuhei was partially hanging off his seat as he peered around them, in a position that should never have been attempted by anyone, drunk or sober. Enthusiastically, he continued, "Little Momo learned how to gyrate!"

It is entirely possible that Kira's brain briefly shut down with that information.

As soon as it started functioning again, though, he was torn between two thoughts – one, that this was a terrible development and he was now going to have to beat out all the available men in the Seireitei for the object of his affections, and two, that Momo was gyrating and he was missing it. Tentatively, he peered around Renji and let his jaw drop freely.

It is also entirely possible that his brain underwent a second lapse in activity.

By the standards of most of the SWA, her dress was fairly modest, but on her it revealed considerably more than Kira had ever chanced to see. It clung to her, showing off every move of her hips to the music – damn, when had she learned to move her hips like _that_ – and the hemline was short enough for Kira to get more than an eyeful of a pair of legs that surpassed all of his fantasies. And Kami only knew, he'd been collecting _those_ for decades.

_In short, I'm screwed. If I didn't have competition before, I'm definitely going to have it now._

He sat back straight just as she turned around, hoping he hadn't been caught practically slavering over her. He took a deep breath as he saw Renji waving to her, as Shuuhei helpfully informed him, "She's comin' over."

Grabbing his glass, Kira drained the rest of his scotch, on the grounds that he was going to need it. Frantically, he turned to Shuuhei. "I know that you'll never let go of the fact that I'm asking this question, but how's my hair?"

Squinting at what looked like a point over Kira's shoulder, he replied, "Blond. Anyhoodle, she's still comin' over."

"Thanks for the update. You're just so damn helpful", Kira muttered.

_I'm not even vaguely ready for this, and –_

"Hey guys", Momo giggled as she slipped into the seat next to Kira. "What've I missed?"

She was far too close, Kira decided. Far too close and smelling too good, with just a hint of –

His eyes widened. "Momo… Are you drunk?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I only had the one Long Island Iced tea. I'm not Shuuhei." Ignoring her friend's sputters of indignation, she continued to muse, "It doesn't really taste quite like tea, though. Or maybe that's how they do tea in Long Island. I've never been stationed there, so I wouldn't know. Have you ever been there, Kira?"

Belatedly, he realised the question had been aimed at him, and he tore his eyes off her mouth and stuttered out a negative. He'd never seen Momo in makeup before. She was only wearing lipstick, but the dark red shade that matched her dress also contrasted beautifully with her pale skin. Her hair was down too, falling in loose waves past her shoulders. She looked incredible, and Kira suspected that he was going to endure a lot of sleepless nights remembering how she appeared right now. Still, that wasn't his biggest problem right now.

His biggest problem, judging from the slightly knowing glint in Momo's eyes, was that he'd just been caught staring – no, _ogling _– her. Kira gulped, and prayed he was mistaken. Her next question, though, didn't quite bear that theory out.

"How'd you like my dress?" She grinned as she stood up and spun around to show it off. "Nemu says red's my colour and she doesn't do tactful lying, so I believe her." She frowned as she sat down, considering her words, "Though, that being said, Nemu's ideas of what works and what doesn't when it comes to fashion are a little leftfield at times." Appealingly, she smiled at them. "A second opinion would be great."

"You look amazing." Kira gave up and just accepted that, along with everything else not going his way tonight, his brain-mouth filter had vanished. Still, it was worth it to see the way she smiled.

"You really think so?"

He couldn't deny her, not when she looked at him like that. He smiled back. "Absolutely."

She blushed as she smiled, before holding out her hand. "C'mon. I need someone to dance with. Nemu's working tonight and just moving by myself gets boring."

It was the best idea Kira had heard all night, and that wasn't just because the only others he'd heard had come from a drunken Shuuhei Hisagi. Slipping his hand into hers, he let her lead as they slipped onto the dance floor.

Momo couldn't believe her luck, as she led the man of her dreams away from the table. Kira might have been considerably subtler about it than most men, but she could have sworn that he was checking her out. All things considered, this looked promising.

If Kira had thought she was too close before, he was now re-evaluating his definitions of distance. He and Momo had danced together before but never the way most clubbers danced, where there wasn't even a breath of air separating them. The second they had arrived at where Momo had been dancing, she had wrapped her arms around him, sliding one of her surprisingly long legs between his, and had proceeded to basically plaster herself against him as she moved slowly and sinuously.

Not that Kira was complaining.

Oh, he knew in the back of his mind that this was his best friend, and that she was probably too tipsy for him to really try anything, but he couldn't help enjoying the way she moved against him, all warm skin, heady scent and flushed cheeks. In hindsight, he thought, this had probably been the wrong song to attempt distance with. Anything with a strong, insistent bass line tended to evoke more primal movement, and this one was no exception, but he couldn't bring himself to move away. This was probably as close as he'd ever get to what he wanted, and he figured that sense could kick in after this song. In the meantime, he was going to enjoy it.

Except then he made the mistake of making eye contact. There was something in Momo's eyes that was far too clear for a woman swaying the way she did, and he thought he'd managed to figure out what it was, just as she leaned forward and delicately pressed her lips to his.

Poor Kira's brain never had a hope.

For the first few seconds he just stood there, numb, trying to figure out when he'd fallen asleep because this sort of thing only happened in dreams. But then her lips started to move and mould to his, and the last threads of Kira's restraint snapped. With a groan he pulled her closer, his hands sliding down her back as he met her passionate kiss with decades of longing, coaxing her mouth open so that he could taste her. She felt so good against him as she moaned and returned his kiss with equal fervour, as he threaded one hand through her hair. The other hand was on her thigh, and he only realised then that she must have hitched one of her legs up onto his hip. Their position was entirely debauched, but he couldn't have cared less. The feel of her bare skin under his fingertips was intoxicating, and she tasted sweet… and decidedly alcoholic.

That was the point when Kira remembered why kissing Momo, not matter how amazing it felt, was a bad idea.

_Oh Kami. I'm taking advantage of a drunk Momo!_

_Fuck._

Cursing himself for being the sane one, he broke away and tried to catch his breath.

Momo felt sick. She'd seen the horror in Kira's face as he pulled away, and it had hit her harder than a zanpakuto thrust through the gut (and she knew all about them). Fighting back the rising tears, she tried to gather her thoughts.

_He kissed back. He kissed me back and I thought…_

_Oh, I don't know what I thought. I can't stay here, not with him. I need – _

Her lips felt raw and bruised where he'd kissed, and her fingers went up involuntarily to meet them. Then she did what any self-respecting member of the SWA would have done in the same situation.

She turned on her heel and flash-stepped out.

Blinking, Kira desperately tried to process what was happening. Momo was clearly upset with him – the expression on her face before she'd disappeared had been almost enough to break his heart. The only thing was, judging from the way she'd recoiled like she'd been slapped when he'd pulled away, her issue with him had not been because he kissed her but, apparently, because he'd stopped…

That little epiphany in his head, he flashed out after her, a smile starting to cross his face.

_I might be wrong, but even so I should talk to her and explain. I can't just let her walk away upset like that._

_And if I'm right…_

Swiftly he raced through the streets. One good thing about being in love with your best friend, he mused, was that you knew how they'd react to situations that didn't work out and, more importantly, where they'd go. Kira knew just where he was headed.

Seconds later, he touched down by the stream near the academy grounds that they had all used to sit near, just in time to see Momo kicking off her shoes and wiping her face. He reached over to grab her arm before she could vanish on him again.

"Momo, I need to talk to - "

"Oh, go away." This was officially the worst night of Momo's life. The worst part would be, Kira was going to be so reasonable about it. He'd give her an out –

"Look, Momo, I know you had a bit to drink - "

- just like that. Except Momo was tired of pretending. At least things couldn't possibly get much worse.

"I'm not drunk", she sniffled, "I only had the one, like I said. I just figured that if I acted a little tipsier, I could pass all of this off as drunken stupidity when I was rejected. Which I was." Shaking her arm out of a stunned Kira's grasp, she sat down and let the tears fall. "It was a stupid plan. You're never going to see me as anything but - "

She stopped as she felt him sit down beside her, and looked away. The last thing she wanted to see was pity or guilt on his face, not after this. Apparently, though, she wasn't getting a choice. She felt his cool hand graze her cheek as he turned her face to his and, reluctantly, she met his eyes. They were cautious and guarded, but she didn't see any of the things she'd feared.

"So", Kira began tentatively, "You only had the one drink?"

This was a lousy enough situation without him insulting her intelligence.

"Yes Kira", she replied sharply, only to end up staring at him wide-eyed as his thumb traced the corner of her lips. "What - "

"So", Kira continued in a tone that suggested that he was willing her to understand something, "I couldn't possibly be construed as an utter bastard taking advantage of his beautiful, drunk best friend if I kissed you again?"

_What the –_

_Oh._

_Wait, did he just call me - _

Letting out a watery chuckle, Momo lifted her hand to trace his jaw as things fell into place. "You're an idiot. Worse - an overly scrupulous one."

He was smiling at her in a way that sent pleasurable shivers down her spine, and she was very sure that she wanted to see that expression aimed at her quite a bit in future. "Perhaps I am, but you do know me well enough to account for that, especially seeing as you've been 'planning' and all."

Tobiume was smugly pointing out that perhaps Momo had written this night off a little hastily, and Momo couldn't help but agree as Kira rose to his feet and held out his hand to her.

"Want to dance?"

xXx

**So, apparently Momo is the first real Soul Society casualty. Damn. Not the thing you want to find out halfway through writing something like this, I can assure you.**

**Anyhoodle, I felt like improving the mood somewhat and this has been in my head for a bit, so enjoy! I do rather love this pairing, even if it isn't really canon. Then again, are there really any canon pairings? I mean, Kubo-sensei was been rather adamant that the series isn't meant to be a romance…**

**Of course, that being said, none of my favourite pairings even come close to 'potential canon', either. **

**R and R, y'all!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Things that aren't mine – a fully-functioning laptop, sanity, Sweden, any form of motor vehicle or licence to drive said motor vehicle, Johnny Depp, and Bleach.**

**I live in hope, though.**

**Listening to: The Yeah Yeah Yeahs – 'Hysteric' and Secret Machines – 'Lightning Blue Eyes'.**

Chapter Six

People fear what they don't understand.

Retsu had always known this, perhaps better than anyone. As a lesser noblewoman taking up arms, as a female in a position of power – in a military organisation, no less – she was used to seeing the confusion give way to fear when people saw her and realised just what she was.

She had done what she could to change that, of course. It got very lonely when people were afraid of you, and Retsu liked company. Pursuing the path of a healer, therefore, seemed logical given her particular gifts and it was less confronting for her family and co-workers to see her in that light. So she became the healer-mother, a powerful, kindly and wise figure that never changed despite the turmoil around her. Even her own Shikai appeared to back that image up – the vast, silent ray with seemingly infinite healing powers, a perfect reflection of her own strengths. It wasn't that Retsu disagreed with that reading of her character, exactly, but there was so much more to her than what people saw on the surface.

After all, Minazuki's Shikai and Minazuki's Bankai were two very different things.

There could be nothing further from the gentle, healing creature of her Shikai than the unearthly blast of power that was her Bankai. The fierce blue flames she controlled in Bankai, the same fire that had led her to the Captain-Commander's tutelage centuries ago, were fitting for her dual nature. Wasn't fire capable of both destruction and creation? The power that she wielded burnt through both disease and any who fought her, and yet people insisted on only seeing one aspect of her abilities. Not even her efforts in the war had cleared up the misconception – too many who had seen her in battle now lay dead, the cruel result of the ravages of Aizen and his plots. And so she was trapped, trapped in this image people had of her and too afraid of seeing fear in anyone's eyes again to try to change things and reveal her true self. She would be forever dispassionate, gentle and calm – the perfect healer. All the while she wanted to scream, wanted to make someone see the rage that boiled inside her, the turmoil she hid under a noblewoman's mask, the joy she felt in battle whenever she could let go and let her inner self emerge.

When she did find someone to share that with, though, it hadn't quite been what she'd planned.

In hindsight, she supposed, she should have seen it coming. He _was _one of the most bloodthirsty of captains, and the only man she knew in the Seireitei who, in his own words, "didn't give a fuck if they wanted to put a girl in charge, so long as she could fuck shit up". He treated her and her squad with disdain, an attitude that he'd passed onto his troops with a fair amount of success, but it was because of her place as a healer in the Gotei Thirteen, not her gender. It intrigued and annoyed her, all at once. His men, while harsh to her underlings, did at least approach her with a good deal of respect tinged with fear, which she supposed was a start. The reaction often made her wonder if The Eleventh were the only division capable of recognising what she really was, even if they did meet that knowledge with the fear she wanted to avoid. Their captain, on the other hand, remained oblivious and that knowledge grated against her for reasons that she couldn't quite put her finger on. So the needling went on, in blatantly unsubtle comments and bruised squad members, until that side of Retsu, the impulsive one that had a young woman from a traditional family of minor aristocrats first hefting a sword, had reawakened after centuries of slumber.

She had challenged him to a fight.

Which she won.

She, Retsu Unohana, member of the lesser nobility and healer-captain of the 'pansy-assed sissy' squad, had defeated Kenpachi Zaraki, he of the ludicrous reiatsu and unnamed sword, captain of the berserkers of the Gotei Thirteen. And she'd loved every minute.

There had been no shunpo, no kido, just steel, power, swordplay and skill. He'd smiled at her patronisingly, at first, offering her the traditional free-shot which she had taken – and used to cut the bells from his hair. He responded by grinning at her, interest suddenly apparent, and slicing off at least a foot of her braid, letting her hair fall loose. It had escalated from there. She'd fought as dirty as he did, letting herself go for the first time in decades, at least. She was swift, merciless and, above all, free. She didn't care that she was probably smiling in just as unsettling a fashion as he was, didn't care that she was wounded as she cut away his eye-patch, letting things get _really_ interesting. She was in her element, the one that she had too long neglected, and it was a glorious homecoming.

It was almost disappointing, then, when he'd given her an opening and she'd ended it.

And then reality came crashing in. They all went back to their daily lives, except now there was a shadow of fear in the members of her squad when they looked at her, no doubt recalling that she wasn't just a healer, but a warrior. It frustrated her no end. The Eleventh left them alone now, didn't they? Her squad should be thanking her, not scurrying out of the way when she approached. She couldn't help but wonder how they thought she'd made it this far if she couldn't wield a soul-slayer, but then decided that this was just too much of a leap for some of the more unimaginative members of the rank and file. At least her fellow captains seemed less surprised, and more inclined to congratulate her. One in particular…

She caught him watching her now, every once in a while. She wasn't sure what to do with that. It seemed almost like he was challenging her with his gaze, and there was nothing that Retsu responded to better than a challenge. Her family's directive to abandon all pretensions of shinigami-hood and act in a manner that befitted a young lady, and her response to said directive were clear proof of that, and Retsu couldn't help but wonder what her family would have made of Kenpachi. She'd chuckled to herself briefly, before realising just where her train of thought was going, and then blanched in panic. This was _Kenpachi_ she was thinking of, a man who barely clung to this side of civilisation. To be fair, Retsu had never managed to have a particular type of man who interested her, but she was fairly certain that whatever her type was, it didn't involve a wicked laugh, a fierce grin or a pair of gold eyes that appeared to see right through her –

That was when Retsu decided, very abruptly, that she was Not Thinking About This ever again.

And it worked, for a while. Retsu threw herself into her paperwork, Not Thinking About This the whole time. Captain's meetings were also spent staring solely at the General instead of any other captains, Not Thinking About This, and her work with her patients also kept her firmly on the path of Not Thinking About This. In fact, she had been Not Thinking About This with such intense resolution, that she missed what the Captain-Commander was saying one meeting, and had ended up agreeing to her squad patrolling part of the Rukongai with Captain Zaraki's.

Ignoring the smug grin on one particular fellow captain's face (that duty was also considered part of Not Thinking About This), Retsu politely smiled, was dismissed, and went straight back to The Fourth to throw things in her office and curse her own stupidity very, very quietly. Not even this time-honoured calming technique seemed to help and, after an hour had passed, Retsu was forced to admit that as much as it enraged her, she was spoiling for a fight.

Worse, there was only one person in the Seireitei who would really give her a proper battle.

With a sigh, Retsu weighed up the pros and cons of going out and getting to work in this mood, which would no doubt give her squad something to really be afraid of, or of finding Kenpachi, who she was now going to have to confront anyway, and possibly getting to work out her rage by beating him to a bloody pulp. For a few seconds, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, in a last ditch attempt to regain calm and decide rationally. Making a noise that, in a more temperamental woman, might have been labelled a growl, Retsu's eyes snapped open as she wheeled around, one hand on her zanpakuto's hilt as she flashed out of her office.

Two options be damned – there had never been any other choice.

xXx

If Kenpachi Zaraki had been in possession of a camera, the first thing he would have done this morning was take a picture of the expression on Retsu Unohana's face when she'd realised what she'd agreed to do.

Since he was going to be left without the visual aid, though, he'd just have to fix that image in his memory. Grinning to himself as he watched Ikkaku drill the rest of the squad, while Yachiru pelted them with spitballs made of the paperwork, Kenpachi shook his head. He wasn't stupid – she'd been avoiding him like the plague since their fight, and he had a feeling he might just know why.

Retsu Unohana was the embodiment of serenity and all that other crap that usually made him tune out when it got mentioned in conversation. She was part of an old, though lesser, noble house, a healer who never got her hands dirty, and she was constantly polite to everybody. She was everything that bugged him, so he'd ignored her mostly, figuring that was a better alternative than just getting pissed at the woman for being what she was made to be. She couldn't help what she was, after all, just as he couldn't – Tousen's lovely monologues about overcoming his brutal nature aside (especially since Tousen wasn't just a shitty philosopher now, but a traitor too). That had been the extent of the thought he'd expended on her, at least, until she'd challenged him to a fight and won. Suddenly, faced with a Retsu Unohana who was all wild, unbound hair, a blade in her hand and the light of battle in her eyes, he was drastically rethinking how interesting he found her, and just how much thought he was willing to expend.

He'd seen that moment when she realised that they had things in common. He'd seen how much it had unsettled her, and had watched her withdraw back into her typical self, which wouldn't have bothered him before but, now that he knew what else that calm exterior was hiding, he wanted to see more of the Retsu she hid from the world. So he'd backed off her squad, started to watch her and had picked up all manner of useful information.

For example, Retsu got angry. It was so quick, you had to know exactly what you were looking for to see it, but it was there in the spark that leapt into her eyes, and the way her fists curled in tight, knuckles white and just aching to make contact with someone's face. It took only a split second, and then it was gone. She'd smile politely, excuse herself, and then head back to her office. Having walked past her office one day after such an incident, only to hear the muffled sounds of furniture splitting and a woman's voice quietly muttering out curse words he'd never heard outside of The Eleventh, he had a fairly good idea of what she did with that anger. She was careful, too – if he didn't have the unnaturally good hearing that came from his days of living feral in Zaraki, he doubted he would have heard her.

Still, that particular aspect of her aside, the woman loved her job as a healer. You could see it in her face as she worked, and she was damn good at what she did, too. There were times, though, where she would look out at her fellow shinigami sparring with an expression that was almost longing. That, Kenpachi understood. There was nothing worse than wanting to spar and not being able to find anyone with the balls, metaphorical or otherwise, to go up against you. The woman clearly needed an outlet, so he was happy to help and, Kenpachi considered as he recalled those fierce blue eyes and the curves hidden under that haori, if she also happened to need an outlet for anything else…

Well, he'd be more than happy to help with that, too.

He would have told her before now, if she weren't so damn busy avoiding him like he was going to bite her. Which he wouldn't. Unless, of course, she liked that sort of thing in which case he'd gladly oblige. That thought, however entertaining and enjoyable, was beside the point – Retsu wasn't going to be able to avoid him if they were stationed together and, if he played his cards right, he might just get to have another crack at sparring with her –

Or, he reconsidered as a certain haori-clad figure strode past his gaping officers, that opportunity might present itself a tad sooner.

He guessed that she'd been upset about her lapse in attention this morning and its consequences, but Kenpachi hadn't anticipated the woman deciding that she'd taken out enough rage on the furniture and moving on to a live target. Taking in the tall, curvy woman before him, her dark hair loose, her hand twitching on the hilt of her zanpakuto and an edge to her reiatsu that he'd only ever felt once before, Kenpachi felt very sure about one thing – it really was his lucky day.

Kenpachi Zaraki, Retsu decided, was definitely a contender for the 'most infuriating man she ever had the misfortune to meet' award. As much as she was itching to slap that shit-eating grin off his face, the one that said he knew _exactly_ why she was here and what had been going on in her head, she maintained control.

Besides, there were witnesses.

A raised eyebrow was added to the shit-eating grin as his hand – calloused, strong and suggesting all sorts of non-fighting possibilities that Retsu was going to ignore – rested on his nameless weapon. Her fingers curled around Minazuki's hilt to mirror him, as at least one squad member let out a whimper, and she raised an eyebrow of her own in challenge. The response she received was a wider grin, and a deep, rough voice (just the correct tone and pitch to send shivers down her spine, unfortunately) calling out, "Ya here for a fight, woman?"

She offered him a razor of a smile, one that didn't quite meet her eyes as she felt the polite mask slip. "Why else would I be here?"

That question had struck a sore point, Kenpachi realised. People might have assumed that he wasn't the most observant of guys, but when you lived the life he had before coming here being unobservant got you killed. So he knew when his question hit a nerve, and he knew that he wanted to pursue it. Chuckling to himself, he replied, just loud enough for her to hear, "Why indeed?"

If she'd been pissed before, she was definitely pissed now. Her deep blue eyes sparked, and all attempt at civility vanished. In a harsh, low voice, she grated out, "I'm not having this conversation in this setting. We should reconvene elsewhere and cease inconveniencing your men."

He snorted. "You tryin' t' get me alone, woman?"

She flinched. It was slight, like so many of her reactions, and barely noticeable, but it was definitely there and he could only assume that the current narrowing of the eyes in his direction accompanied it. Apparently another nerve had been hit, by a vague insinuation, of all things. Interesting…

Therefore, everything considered, the situation as Kenpachi understood it was that there was a beautiful woman staring him down and demanding a fight, a woman who not only knew how to handle a blade _and_ how to appreciate battle, but one who got twitchy at the thought of them alone together and yet was still demanding this altercation be taken somewhere more private.

Yep - definitely his lucky day.

Retsu still wanted to slap him. Reeling from his comment, and steadfastly ignoring the traitorous voice in the back of her head indicating that she really thought otherwise, she replied in the calmest tones she could muster, "I have no interest in anything you're implying. I just assumed you would prefer there to be fewer witnesses to your imminent defeat."

This icily polite speech (in delivery, if not in actual content) was met with raucous, wicked laughter. It was all she could do to stand there and not try to throttle him but, as she was all too aware, they were not alone.

The throttling could come later.

Ignoring the voice in her brain that insisted on pointing out that there were more interesting things she could do if she got Kenpachi alone, Retsu spat out, in a voice shaking with rage, "Is there a problem, Captain Zaraki?"

"Fuck, no." He grinned at her as he rose, adding, "Yer wasted wit' the healers. Ya shoulda been in my squad."

That was high praise from him, though she was an idiot if she let it go to her head. Not that her head seemed willing to listen, she thought as she fought back the rising blush. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Retsu simply stated, one eyebrow raised, "That is mere foolishness, Captain – if I had ever been a part of this squad, do you honestly think it would still be yours?" With that parting shot, she turned on her heel and flashed out. She knew he'd follow – there was a fight to be had, after all. As she raced across the rooftops of the Seireitei, a small part of Retsu questioned whether she actually knew what she was doing, but she quashed that easily. She was a grown woman and a decorated captain – she could keep her feelings in check.

She was there to fight – that was all.

Kenpachi didn't waste time weighing up his options. Unsheathing his silent blade, he leapt after her, following the faint trail of reiatsu she gave off all the way outside the city. Touching down in a small clearing in the forest just outside the Seireitei, he heard a typically soft and musical voice grate out, "The bells and the eye-patch – lose them."

Chuckling to himself, he turned to face her and decided that 'riled up' was a damn good look on Retsu Unohana and there was no time like the present to help that along.

"I jus' got here woman, an' yer already askin' me to take shit off. You sure ya wanna get me alone t' fight?"

Now she knew she was blushing. "I want a real fight", she replied hurriedly, "and I can't get that if you're wearing an early warning system and a reiatsu suppressant. Honestly Kenpachi, get your mind out of the gutter."

He sidled forward, ignoring the way she lifted her blade ready to defend, until he was less than a foot away from her. Still wearing the grin she wanted to slap off, he returned, "If I hafta be ditchin' clothes, it seems an awful shame f' me t' be doin' it on my own…"

He saw it then, that flicker of interest that clearly indicated he wasn't alone in this. Of course it instantly gave way to rage but, as she hefted her sword and charged him, Kenpachi decided that this was a more than fine alternative for now. Bringing his zanpakuto up to counter her blow, he leapt into the fray.

It was vicious. Retsu sliced, stabbed, kicked, punched and, on one occasion, even scratched. This was what she had been craving – the rush of battle and the chance to let go – and she was damned if she didn't take advantage of that. Kenpachi never held back, giving her as good as he got and even laughing at her when she almost broke her hand trying to punch his face (that may have been where the scratching came in). It was a real fight, it was wonderful and yet…

There was a clear undercurrent of something else there, moments when they looked at each other with a lust that wasn't entirely that of battle, moments when they stood just a little too close for no good reason. It didn't help that they were rapidly losing pieces of their uniforms – Kenpachi had clearly embarked on a mission to make good on his insinuations and, naturally, she wasn't about to let him win. At least, not when there was more of that powerful body to reveal. Retsu could try to convince herself that it was purely an anatomical interest of hers, hardly unusual given her profession, but now she knew better. Two thousand years of barely giving cursory glances at other men and now she was hooked on Kenpachi Zaraki, of all people. Worse, she had finally decided that she just didn't care.

That decision may have been a contributing factor in her next move, which was to grab Kenpachi by the front of his remaining uniform and smash her lips to his.

And then they were fighting again, only the weapons had changed – steel and swordplay for lips that ravaged, teeth that bit and nails that bruised and dug into shoulders (and that was just Retsu). That same rush of battle was there, but it was sharper, keener, and Retsu realised that perhaps this was the sort of fight she'd been after all along...

Kenpachi, on the other hand, had come to his own realisation.

Best. Day. Ever.

xXx

The two captains sparred and, uh, 'sparred' regularly from then on. It was a strange relationship, the two participants barely uttering more than monosyllables to each other some days, but there was still communication, that rare bond between those who think and feel alike that allows them to understand one another without language. Somehow, they worked. Eventually, people did find out – some in more interesting ways than others – and the reactions were about what Retsu had expected. Her fellow officers accepted it, though one or two had delicately asked if she were out of her mind. As for the rank and file, their limited experience with either captain meant that they didn't understand at all and were mostly terrified by this new alliance, vanishing whenever she entered a room or trembling the whole time she was there if they had been unable to vanish like their companions.

Except now, with Kenpachi by her side aiming his wolf-grin at anyone who reacted badly to her, Retsu found that she didn't care what they thought.

It turned out that not caring felt pretty damn good.

xXx

**Wheee! Chapter that almost wrote itself. I love this pairing (what am I saying – it's crack – of course I love it), so getting around to writing this was pretty sweet.**

**R and R, y'all.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Pleeeeease, Mr. Kubo! If you give me Bleach I'll feed it, take it for walks and love it like my own…**

**Listening to: Whitley – 'Poison in Our Pockets' and The Dandy Warhols – 'Sleep'.**

Chapter Seven

Night in the Seireitei was never quite as restful as it appeared. It was only logical - in a city of souls who had mostly dispensed of any earthly needs, sleep tended to be less important. Death changed a lot of things.

Of course, it didn't help that they were also at war.

Nothing official had been signed and casualties had been light, but there was no escaping the sense of menace that lingered wherever a shinigami roamed these days. Their enemy was strong, prepared and biding its time – naturally everyone was on edge, from the rank and file sentries to the captains supervising such lookouts.

No one, however, could match for tension the recently captained arrancar who sat alone, staring at her front door and waiting for her lover to return.

xXx

Neliel Tu Oderschvank was no fool.

She was perfectly aware that the role of double agent had no set hours, that she could not predict with any accuracy when Ulquiorra would return, or what state he would be in when he did. All the same, there was a part of her that was certain he should have walked through the door at least an hour ago, and it was that part that kept her stock still, too terrified to even breathe too exuberantly, and seated at the door, her gaze fixed.

There was no logic to this ritual, she knew. Just a need to be there the moment he returned, so that she could confirm both his existence and her own as someone capable of more than just having a prolonged panic attack while looking at an entryway.

There had been far worse nights than this, too. Nights when he had come back bloodied and beaten, his regeneration powers stretched to the limit. Nights when he had arrived home, stepped through the door and simply slumped down across from her, his eyes wide and empty. The worst, though, were the nights he didn't return at all, and she was left to pick herself up and run the division the next day, all the while dodging questions about his absence. Only the very pinnacle of Gotei 13 command were aware of Ulquiorra's role and, while it grated every moment she did it, it was necessary to keep up the façade with her squad that her lieutenant's absence was odd, but not too alarming. Most of them bought it, though she suspected that Maiko, their third seat, had her suspicions.

All the while, though, she wanted nothing more than to scream the truth, to break his cover so that he would have no choice but to return to his usual duties and the safety of the Seireitei. But she stopped herself each time, duty like bitterness that weighed down her tongue. Ulquiorra, too, understood duty – it was what had driven him to take on this role in the first place.

Nel didn't believe in any particular deity but, as she sat silent and motionless by the door, she started to pray.

xXx

In another, very different house – one with all the trappings of obscene wealth, but the subtle elegance that typically indicates old money – there slept two very different captains.

At least, one of them may have been asleep. One was very much awake, and the other… well, he had a habit of clinging only tenuously to sleep, a habit born of a life lived on mean streets.

Byakuya smiled faintly at the snoring redhead beside him, a heady mess of long, well-muscled, sprawling limbs, vividly crimson locks and sharp, black tattoos. Renji's snoring was no guarantee of deep sleep – this he knew. Byakuya's upbringing had not equipped him to make affectionate gestures comfortably, so he often elected to do so when his lover slept. He'd lost count now of the times he had carded his fingers through Renji's hair, or traced the lines of his face with tentative fingertips, only to realise that the recipient of this gesture was suddenly awake and staring at him, a knowing grin on his face. Oddly, Byakuya didn't mind. Perhaps this was simply because it was a relief to make such gestures and find them accepted. Hisana had never particularly shied away from his touch, but nor had she seemed to welcome it so much – it was a nice change to be wanted. Or, as Byakuya couldn't help but think, perhaps it was just because it was Renji. The man did have a knack for taking the impossible and making it reality. The sheer unlikelihood of his survival in the Rukongai was proof enough of that – Byakuya often shuddered to think what that life would have been like.

As his hands absentmindedly drifted to stroke Renji's hair, Byakuya pondered the bitter irony of the human belief in heaven. It would be a slap in the face, he thought, to die and wake up here – not in a heaven, but simply in a new existence with no knowledge of your previous life. Even if they were not reborn in the Rukongai's worst districts and managed to do well for themselves, it was still hardly a paradise.

Then again, the noble reconsidered as Renji's eyes opened and he smiled at Byakuya lazily, there was heaven to be found here, if one only searched long and hard enough.

Not Renji-heaven, though. Renji-heaven was his.

xXx

Kenpachi Zaraki and safety were not words that went together, no matter how far you stretched your imagination.

Unless you were Retsu Unohana.

True, his snores equalled the noise of a freight train in terms of decibel output and he hogged the bed – partially because of his size and partially because he just damn well felt like it. But he was such a warm, solid, comforting presence you couldn't help but feel protected in his arms with such a fierce human shield between you and the door.

It was here she could relax enough to sleep, enough to let go of the day's concerns and fears.

And if Kenpachi happened to also occasionally enjoy her soothing presence beside him… Well, that was something he was going to keep to himself.

He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

xXx

"Nanao-chan?"

She looked up from her almost-finished cup of tea and grimaced. "I couldn't sleep."

Shunsui smiled at her crookedly, admiring the sleep-dishevelled picture she made at their kitchen table. "And I could've sworn I wore you out. What's this, then? Pre-wedding jitters?"

Running a hand through unbound hair, she sighed. "The wedding is weeks away. It's a little soon for cold feet."

"Ah, but you're so very organised", he replied, slipping into the seat beside her. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if you scheduled time now to get it over and done with."

She rolled her eyes and let a small smile emerge, leaning on his shoulder. "I'm just tired of being on tenterhooks. I want it to start, and then, of course, I don't. This state of limbo is just so much worse than either alternative." She looked up at him. "I don't want to keep living my life scared."

Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss, first to her temple, and then to her lips. "Nanao, I do not, for a second, believe that I have ever seen evidence of you living scared. You handle everything life throws at you with a grace that, frankly, I find mesmerising. Don't get me wrong – I've seen you afraid. But I've seen you fight that fear back, every single time." He smiled, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Besides, we're about to get married in what could be the middle of a war. If that doesn't say a nice big 'fuck you' to living scared, I don't know what does."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "You've been watching that living world 'doctor' on the television again, haven't you?"

"…Maybe." He grinned and shrugged. "Doesn't mean I'm not right, even if I can't pull off a southern accent." He rose from the table and held out his hand. "Come on – it's late. Come to bed."

Her smile widening, Nanao took Shunsui's hand.

xXx

The first rock hit his sentry post, and almost had him firing a cero.

Then he realised that the one person he knew who'd be throwing pebbles to get his attention was not someone he wished to see burned to a crisp. He'd had more than enough of that for an entire lifetime.

"Oi, Mopey-chan! Can I come up?"

Given that she was currently perched on the window frame, the question was somewhat redundant. Of course, she was probably also aware that he was lousy at refusing her things anyway.

Coyote Stark sighed the sigh of a man, or arrancar, who was resigned to a certain course of events, but was actually glad of it and only put up a token resistance for form's sake. "Fine. But Chiru, you'd better not distract me."

Yachiru Kusajishi snorted as she climbed through and into the guard post. "Like it matters. Seriously, they gotta make it past 'bout five other guys before they get to you. You're hardly the last line of defence."

"Well, now", he drawled, "Clearly this would not be the moment for me to question my place in the universe, seeing as my role here is so _very_ important."

She grinned. "Who'd tell you if I didn't? Anythin' interesting? Ken-chan's been getting antsy, and no one wants to play so I'm hopin' for some action."

"Silent as the grave", Stark replied, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. "Your Ken-chan would be better off trying his luck with Captain Kurosaki or Lieutenant Jeagerjacques. Grimmjow in particular, I believe, is spoiling for some action."

"Ain't we all", she muttered. "Even I'm startin' to wish somethin'd happen, an' you know I don't wanna get involved. It just feels like we're all at each other's throats."

One eyebrow raised, Stark replied thoughtfully, "Of course, that could just be their intention."

Yachiru groaned, shaking her head so that her vivid hair caught the light. "Fabulous. Fucking fabulous."

"Indeed."

They sat it silence for a while, keeping watch together and contemplating this, before Stark queried, "Are you staying for my shift?"

She shrugged. "Got nothin' better to do. 'Sides, I brought candy." She fished a packet out of her sleeve, grinning triumphantly.

He rolled his eyes. "I thought you were on a campaign to convince the Seireitei that you were adult in mind now, not just in body. This hardly helps."

Yachiru made a crude gesture. "I am, but it's candy for fuck's sake. It doesn't get less awesome just because I got bigger. 'Course, if you're too grown up to have any…" She trailed off, an all-too-aware look in her eyes.

He grimaced, knowing she'd won. "Fine, hand it over. Touché, by the way."

That earned him another one of her grins, his favourite – the one that was half mischief and half sheer joy – as she simply replied, "Damn straight."

xXx

"You're still here." The slightly accusing tone of her voice startled Toushiro Hitsugaya out of his paperwork-induced reverie and brought his gaze up to meet Rangiku Matsumoto.

As was fairly common these days, her husky, musical voice and the way the flickering lamplight played on her features had him feeling completely wrong-footed and out of his depth. Still, a response was clearly required.

"Ah. Right. Well… You're here too!"

He winced internally. Not his finest conversational hour. Sadly, though, he was forced to realise, still probably not his worst around her. There was something about coming to the realisation that you were in love with your lieutenant, followed by having to kill the man she loved on the battlefield right in front of her, that strained a relationship somewhat. True, Rangiku had never reproached him for this, but it could hardly have left her unscathed. He saw the shadows in her eyes some days and couldn't help cursing himself.

She smiled at him sadly. "Some of the younger recruits have been having nightmares, and since most of us can't sleep these days…"

He nodded, understanding her all too well. "I never thought I'd say this, Lieutenant Matsumoto, but what about your drinking buddies? Surely spending your nights with them would ease things slightly."

Rangiku sighed. "It probably would. But Shuuhei's been too busy since he made captain, Renji is no doubt somewhere on the Kuchiki grounds and Kira… Well, he has Momo now." With a shrug, she concluded, "And even if they didn't have any of these things, they still wouldn't be able to help me sleep every night. They have their own lives to deal with."

"And sleeping patterns, no doubt." Toushiro grimaced to himself as he took in her haggard appearance. "Ordering you home will do nothing, will it?"

She shook her head as he threw her a pen, which she caught effortlessly. "Might as well help me with the paperwork, then", he pointed out, "it's probably more likely to send you to sleep than anything else."

She smiled then, a true smile that made the shadows disappear, as she settled herself beside him. "Looks like they didn't call you a genius for nothing."

Fighting back a blush, he grated out, "Just shut up and work, Matsumoto."

Rangiku smirked. "Yes, Toushiro."

"It's Captain Hitsugaya, dammit."

xXx

They were not the only captains burning the midnight oil. In an underground laboratory, Kisuke Urahara was currently "not having this conversation now" with Yoruichi Shihoun.

She apparently, however, was not getting the message.

"I'm just saying that I'm not averse to the idea, Kisuke. It'd get the clan off of both our backs, for one thing - "

"You have the worst sense of timing", Kisuke growled. "And even if we weren't in the current situation and potentially about to lose our lives in bloody conflict, placating your nut-job clan of highly trained killers is not a good enough reason!"

"Well", she shot back, the hurt clear in her voice, "if you're going to placate anyone, I'd personally start with the clan of nut-job highly trained killers, but perhaps that's just me speaking as a nut-job and highly trained killer."

"I didn't mean you", Kisuke sighed. "All I meant was that we should do it because it's what we want, and for no other reason."

"Well, it is what I want." She smiled at him tiredly and rested a hand on his arm. "Just think about it Kisuke. Please?" With that, she soundlessly slipped from the room.

Back at his desk, Kisuke frowned. He'd been a lot of things during the span of his existence – scientist, prison warden, captain, traitor, exile, and shopkeeper.

But father?

xXx

"Sure, you can crash here for tonight." Ichigo Kurosaki frowned as he continued, "Though it's hardly as nice as where you live. What gives?"

Rukia Kuchiki shrugged. "Renji's over again. It's not that I don't like seeing them together, I do. They're both so much happier now, especially Nii-sama. But it's one thing to support them, and another thing entirely to try and sleep when Nii-sama's bedroom is just down the hall and Renji…" Rukia paused, wondering how best to put this. "Renji's loud."

Ichigo's brow furrowed further. "What, so he snores? You lived together as kids, you'd be used to…" He trailed off, seeing the expression on her face, and comprehension dawned. "Oh Kami, I did not need to know that. Not even a little."

She grinned. "Now you can feel my pain."

"Ugh. Thanks for sharing. Shit, I have to train with him tomorrow. That might just involvelooking him in the eye."

Rukia laughed as Ichigo's expression of disgruntled horror deepened. "Well, that's what friends do. We share", she said sweetly.

He stared at her balefully. "Spoken like a midget who doesn't want to sleep here tonight."

Her eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't."

With a sigh, he had to concede that she was absolutely right – he wouldn't. Somehow, ever since she thrust a sword through his chest, he'd never been able to say no to this woman. What really surprised him, though, was that he didn't mind.

"Fine, get in." He opened the door wider to admit her, before adding, "Just don't tell me anything else, for fuck's sake."

Her musical laugh echoed as he shut the door behind them.

xXx

In another world, another Kurosaki, this one much older, watched his two younger daughters sleep and wondered how he'd explain that he was going to war.

Or, rather, given Karin and her temper, how he'd explain it and escape with his life.

To Isshin, it wasn't a choice. He might have been willing to let his old friends and alliances fall by the wayside in order to protect his family, but the current conflict showed every sign of spilling over into this world – where he and his daughters had made a home. When you took that fact, and then added Ichigo's own involvement as a captain…

He couldn't _not_ go. Not when he had the power to offer assistance. The problem was, then, leaving these two behind. He had no doubt that Karin and Yuzu could look after each other in any ordinary circumstances, but there were powers in this fight that were beyond even the most resourceful of fifteen year olds.

Ignoring the voice in his head that pointed out that Ichigo had been fifteen when all this began, he carefully rose, and was almost out the door before Karin's voice rang out, without even a touch of sleepiness, "We're not stupid, you know."

Recovering from his surprise, he turned to face her, grinning. "But of course! Any descendent from such specimens as Masaki and I is bound to be overflowing with intellectual ability."

Karin gave him a look that clearly suggested he should cut the crap. "Yuzu and I know it's bad over there. Ichigo never has time to visit, or when he does, he looks like his world is falling apart. And we're sensing more of them everywhere." She sat up in bed, brushing her hair out of her face. "It's worse this time. And you're going back to help, aren't you?"

Silence greeted this. She nodded to herself. "We thought so." Running a hand through her sleep-mussed dark hair, she sighed. "Look, Yuzu and I have talked about this a lot. We have a suggestion that you're gonna hate, but…"

With a deep breath, she continued. "We wanna come too."

It felt a little as though the floor had opened up under his feet. As he desperately tried to find the words to shoot this idea down, she clearly saw what he thought on his face and ploughed ahead.

"I know, I know – you don't want us anywhere near there. But just hear me out. Anyone who might be able to protect us is gonna be pulling out of Karakura to help, right?"

He nodded mutely.

"So we're in an ideal hostage situation. You thought of that?"

He hadn't.

"At least if we came with you, we'd have protection. And if you lose… Well, we'd be just as screwed no matter where we were."

He couldn't really argue with that, either.

Karin continued, determination etched in every line of her face. "We can help, too. Don't freak out – I didn't mean in battle. But Ichi's been teaching us healing and defensive kido when he can. And Rukia's been giving us corrective lessons after we've learnt from him", she added. "If we're stationed with the healers, isn't that better than being left undefended here?"

They were all good points, and he didn't want to have to deal with any of them. Flashing a tired smile in her direction, Isshin closed his eyes and wished he didn't have to deal with it. But she was right, of course and so he found himself saying the words he wished he could leave quiet.

"We'll talk about this in the morning."

xXx

In another house in Karakura, not far from that one, a Quincy, a gentle giant and a woman with powers that defied several laws of physics were having a similar conversation.

"We don't _have_ to go. They have no authority over us."

Orihime's head whipped around to stare at Uryuu. "You'd abandon them? Kurosaki-kun, too? This is so much more than a Quincy and Shinigami rivalry."

Uryuu sighed, pinching his nose under his glasses. "You think I am not aware of that? I'm playing devil's advocate. That, and I still haven't forgotten how easily they abandoned you."

"They tried", she whispered.

"They failed", he retorted, "and left you there for three years."

"Kurosaki-kun didn't give up. And I did get out, in the end. Grimm-kun and Ulquiorra-kun saved me", she replied passionately. "I'm not going to leave them - "

"It's not just that!" Uryuu's usual calm was fast deserting him. "I merely worry that if we report for duty like good little boys and girls, we'll have no say in what follows. While there are several shinigami I would lay down my life for, there are also others I do not trust, especially if they are to command us. I am concerned. Inoue-san, your power is all too easily misused, and while I know you would never do such a thing, if we place ourselves in their hands without reservation who can tell what you'll be ordered to do."

She bit her lip, the truth of this hitting home. Sensing that his point had been understood, Uryuu softly added, "I just do not wish to see you forced to use your power destructively, when it is in such opposition to your nature."

Orihime sighed. "I know. I'm still going, though."

Chad finally decided to enter the conversation. "I think we all are going, in the end. We should go with the Vizard."

"What, and save on travel costs?" Uryuu replied waspishly.

Chad simply shook his head. "No, I mean go the same way they are. As an independent unit and place ourselves under a captain who'd work with us, not against us."

Orihime nodded. "Of course. Kurosaki-kun would agree to do it. Or Rangiku-san's captain."

"Kurosaki's a better choice, much as I hate to admit it", Uryuu concurred thoughtfully. "He's not afraid to stand up to the Captain-Commander if he doesn't like an order. It just comes off as though we're saying we don't trust them. Even if we don't, I don't want them to realise it."

Chad shrugged. "Just say we'd feel more comfortable working with someone we know, who knows our strengths. It's not even a lie."

Finally starting to relax, Orihime smiled.

"Now, that's an idea."

xXx

If Ururu was going to revise the dictionary, she'd change the definition of uncomfortable to 'being stuck in a small shop full of cranky Vizard and waiting for a war to begin'.

She'd also provide pictures.

Between Hiyori and Shinji's bickering, Lisa leaving disturbing literature everywhere, Hachi who, while having an incredibly soothing presence, was too huge for many of the rooms and Jinta constantly challenging Rose to fights, Ururu was fairly certain that, if not for Tessai, she would have gone mad weeks ago. As it was, sanity was a little hard to find around here.

As one of Hiyori's sandals flew past her nose before smacking into its intended target, who immediately started cursing, Ururu silently hoped that mobilisation was somewhere close on the horizon.

Anything to get out of the house.

xXx

It was close to dawn when the door handle finally turned.

Nel still didn't move. Even as she knew it made no sense, she still felt as though the slightest shift might break the spell, and that he'd suddenly disappear again. She held her breath, praying that this was Ulquiorra and that he'd made it home safely, rather than the alternative – a grave shinigami with bad news. She didn't even notice the tears starting to slip down her face.

And then suddenly, he was there: picking her up, holding her like she was about to break, wiping away the tears and kissing her fiercely, all the while whispering in a hoarse voice, "Breathe, Neliel. Breathe. It's all right, I'm here. I'm home." With a choked sob, she buried her head in his chest.

Ulquiorra Schiffer looked down on the drawn face of the woman he loved, and felt the heart he wasn't supposed to possess break.

xXx

**Well, that had a little bit of everything. Everything but the giant theology assignment I'm supposed to be writing instead, that is.**

**Oops. Meh, it's due Wednesday. It can wait… Ish. Hmmm, and I thought being a post grad student would improve my work ethic. Apparently, no such luck… **

**It also doesn't contain my favourite pairing to write, because it's their turn next chapter!**

**That's right – GrimmSoi, bitches. Awesomeness.**

**Anyhoodle, R and R! **


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Dare to dream…**

**Listening to: At the Drive-In – 'One Armed Scissor' and Kasabian – 'Vlad the Impaler'.**

**Sad truth – I bought the entire Kasabian album for the opening riff of that song. Happy truth – It was definitely worth it. And they're bitching live.**

**Anyhoodle, Kasabian are such a Grimmjow band - mouthy, obnoxious, violent and fucking brilliant. So are At the Drive-In, for that matter, even if they are now defunct…ish. For those who don't know the story, they spilt into two and became a mediocre punk bank called Sparta and an awesome psychedelic punk act called The Mars Volta (whom I adore and finally saw live earlier this year!). **

**So, moving on from my deep and abiding love for Cedric and Omar, here's the chapter! **

Chapter Eight

Contrary to popular belief, there were few things that Captain Soi Fon truly hated. She'd gotten over loathing her lieutenant, which was a relief, seeing as she and Grimmjow were now something of a twosome. She'd learnt to accept Kisuke Urahara – though if he hurt Lady Yoruichi, he was going down. Sure, she wasn't exactly keen on Akon, the now-Espada, but that had more to do with how he'd attempted to kill Grimmjow than how he'd interrogated her when she was briefly his prisoner.

However, patrols of the Rukongai that began at ten at night and ended at six in the morning were something she had a definite abhorrence to. Especially given that they were coupled with her regular duties.

With war potentially being unleashed at any moment, Soi Fon could accept that these were a necessity and that someone had to lose beauty sleep. She just wished fervently that it wasn't always her squad drawing the short straw. It might have even been acceptable if only _her_ presence was required – she didn't mind waking at odd hours and could deal with disrupted sleep. The problem with this situation lay next to her, his odd snores that sounded suspiciously like purring echoing in the quiet of the night, indicating that he was virtually dead to the world.

Grimmjow Jeagerjacques was a lot of things – ex-Espada, lieutenant, the arrancar she loved, cocky, violent, brimming with an almost unhealthy amount of mischief – but he also happened to be a bitch to wake up any time that wasn't precisely fifteen minutes before he had to show up to work.

With a groan, Soi Fon glared at the display on her alarm clock, which was clearly informing her that her brief nap was over and it was time to get moving. Gracelessly falling out of bed and away from a pair of very warm arms, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and set about readying herself for her shift. It took her only moments to dress, take a deep breath, and mentally prepare herself for the real battle.

Kneeling back on the bed, she prodded a broad shoulder, her voice far from a whisper as she spoke into the closest ear, "Grimm, time to get up."

The recipient of this message stopped snoring. Or purring. Soi Fon held her breath, hoping for the impossible.

_Kami, make this easy. Make him actually get a firing synapse or two that tells him it's time to move, or so help me –_

The snore-purrs were back, deeper than before. Soi Fon took a brief moment to be grateful that they were at least rhythmic and typically started after she herself had dropped off, otherwise there was no telling how she'd ever get any rest. That brief moment over, however, she went back to glaring at Grimmjow. There were limited techniques at her disposal. She couldn't pinch his nose and force him to wake up with the realisation that he couldn't breathe – they were all dead here and breathing was nothing more than a comforting luxury. Flooding the room with reiatsu didn't work either – they were too evenly matched. She'd tried pinching him many times, only to realise that hierro was not just difficult to cut, but fairly pinch-resistant (and, unfortunately, slap-resistant) was well. True, she could aim for the nerves, but she didn't want to disable Grimmjow, even temporarily. For one thing, she rather liked him mobile, and not just for work… For another thing, he wasn't above using an injury as an excuse not to get up.

Soi Fon wasn't about to stand for that. If she didn't get to sleep, neither did he. Besides, he was the only person capable of making the next eight hours bearable.

Rising from the bed, Soi Fon took a deep breath. This would probably be just as painful on her end, but it was the only thing guaranteed to work first try and she wasn't about to be late. She took a step back, before launching herself forward and cannon-balling straight into Grimmjow's stomach.

There was something to be said for this move – it _did_ yield instant results.

"MOTHER FUCK - " Grimmjow broke off, blinking his eyes as he registered just who was lying on the bed beside him, rubbing her injured ribs where he'd elbowed her off his stomach. " Bee, what the – Awww, fuck no. Not yet."

"Oh fuck yes", Soi Fon growled back. "I let you have an extra ten minutes already. When you learn how to get up and start functioning instantly, then you can sleep in. Right now, though, I have make allowance for an hour of incoherency and steering you away from walking into walls."

Lying back and trying to ignore the pain in his gut, arms flung over his eyes, Grimmjow had to concede there was a considerable amount of truth in this. Still…

Lifting one arm to fix his gaze on her, he smiled lazily. "You know, Bee, there is somethin' that helps me wake up…"

"Caffeine", came the blunt reply.

"Not what I meant", Grimmjow muttered.

Soi Fon rolled her eyes. "I know exactly what you meant. Not", she hastened to add as he sat up and ran a hand through wild, electric blue spikes, leaving the bed sheet to slide down a _very_ nice and particularly sculpted torso, "that the idea isn't tempting, but we really don't have time."

He sat there for a second, looking her up and down, his eyes lingering where her uniform left her skin bare. His gaze returned to meet her eyes as a grin spread across his features. He raised an eyebrow and drawled in a husky voice, "You sure we ain't got time, Bee?"

That was the other problem about being Grimmjow Jeagerjacques' wake up call; not only was he difficult to rouse, but he was considerably less difficult to _arouse_, and his attempts to distract Soi Fon from the task at hand with that knowledge were many.

Worse – they usually worked.

"Very sure", Soi Fon answered, as her mind unhelpfully supplied –

_Mostly sure. Kind of._

Grimmjow stretched on the bed; long, athletic and powerful muscles under warm, tanned skin –

_Not at all sure, now that I think about it…_

In a mammoth effort in favour of self-preservation, Soi Fon muttered, "So help me, if you don't get your ass out of bed, I will kick the crap out of it."

Growling to himself, Grimmjow rolled out of bed and to his feet, rather unhelpfully reminding Soi Fon of his aversion to sleeping in clothes. He strode to the wardrobe, giving her an excellent view of the ass in question and making her lose her train of thought thoroughly. Looking up at her, he grinned when he caught her in the act of admiring him, with a rather glazed expression in her typically hard black eyes. Cocky smile on his face, he stepped directly in front of her, announcing, "You wouldn't, you know."

Soi Fon blinked, cursing herself for getting distracted. Again. "Wouldn't what?"

She hadn't thought it possible, but his grin widened. "Kick the crap outta me. Especially my ass."

Her eyes flashed dangerously, and Grimmjow caught his breath. As entertaining as it was to make her eyes glaze over with lust, the fun really began when they started giving off sparks. It probably didn't say much about his survival instincts, but there was nothing more exciting to Grimmjow than getting under Soi Fon's skin. His current state of nudity was also doing nothing to conceal that excitement. Soi Fon stepped forward, leaving only centimetres of air between them, as replied in a low, dangerous and entirely intoxicating voice, "Really, Grimm? And why is that?"

It was much harder to think when she was this close, a deadly smile on her lips and her whole body tensed to spring. His carefully worded response had entirely vanished from his brain, and in its place –

"Uh", Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair and attempted a winning smile, "'coz you like my ass?"

Soi Fon raised a dubious eyebrow.

"Well, you do!" Grimmjow pointed out, not inaccurately. "C'mon Bee, give a guy a break. The blood flow ain't exactly headin' to my brain right now."

She shook her head and laughed in a low voice, a dark, sexy chuckle that did absolutely nothing to help Grimmjow re-distribute said blood flow. "I'll go make breakfast. If you're not out in five, I'm drinking your coffee." With a wicked grin, she flashed away down the hall.

Swearing under his breath, Grimmjow went back to fishing around in the wardrobe for his uniform. This, too, did nothing to calm him down.

_Well, that's just fucken great. Thank fuck hakama have enough room – I don't wanna hafta explain this away when we do the handover with whoever's on._

_Heh. Handover. Dirty._

_I wonder…_

With entirely misplaced hope, Grimmjow called out in the direction of the kitchen, "I'm sure we got time for - "

"Don't even think about it."

_Damn._

Soi Fon rolled her eyes and went back to trying to work the coffee machine. Grimm mightn't care what he drank in his semi-asleep state, but Soi Fon was in full possession of all of her faculties, including taste, and wasn't about to resort to instant. After hitting several combinations of buttons, the machine made a promising burbling noise and began to boil, as Soi Fon hissed out a triumphant 'yes!' and set about trying to remember if Grimm had eaten all the crumpets.

Not five minutes later, she heard the sound of someone slumping against the doorframe, and the accompanying "Wherecoffeewhere?" that was slurred out only helped confirm her suspicions as to that someone's identity. Picking up the now full mug, Soi Fon handed Grimmjow his caffeine dose and wondered, "I don't know why you have so much trouble waking up. You used to be up and frolicking much later than this."

Taking a sip of coffee and making an ecstatic noise that Soi Fon was used to hearing him utter in the bedroom, not the kitchen (well, maybe sometimes the kitchen), Grimmjow scowled. "I don't frolic. Frolicking ain't fucken manly, for a start. And it ain't the hour I'm waking up, it's the fact I don't get a full eight hours. Sure, we get bits here an' there, but it isn't the same. Cats sleep longer, too" he added, before returning to his drink.

Soi Fon snorted. "You and Lady Yoruichi just like to wheel that one out as an excuse to sleep in. Kisuke already did a study on your sleep patterns – there's no difference."

"Fucken scientist-pervert", Grimmjow muttered. "Killing my excuses. Still, the rest is true." He drained his coffee, disregarding the heat.

"I don't doubt it." Soi Fon frowned as she took a bite of her jam-laden crumpet and felt that annoying but unmistakable stickiness on the corner of her mouth that indicated not all of the jam had reached the correct destination. Before she could wipe it away, though, a calloused forefinger was carefully swiped across her bottom lip, picking up the wayward flecks of jam as it went. Soi Fon looked up into blue eyes that blazed, as Grimmjow grinned and held up a jam-covered digit. Before she could stop herself, she leaned forward, her tongue darting out to lick a path up his finger before she took the tip into her mouth, sucking off the jam and never taking her eyes from his. He shuddered, a low purring rumbling in his chest, as his hand cupped her chin and his mouth descended on hers. Seconds later, breathing raggedly, Grimmjow drew back.

"Bee", he growled, "Kami dammit, we are _making_ time."

Just as breathless, she replied, "Sounds good to me."

xXx

"Shit." Flash-stepping as fast as she could, Soi Fon rocketed toward the post where she was to meet her squad and takeover the watch.

"We ain't that late." Grimmjow matched her step for step, an entirely smug smile on his face.

"We are too. Shit shit shit. How do you talk me into this?"

"To be fair, Bee, I blame that one on you. You and jam." He grinned. "It's my new breakfast o' champions."

"I'm glad you find this amusing", she shot back. "Whoever is on will be furious with us. I know I would be."

"Relax, Bee. I'm sure they'll cope. It's what? Two minutes?"

"Two and a half."

Grimmjow took care to ensure she wasn't watching his face, before rolling his eyes. "Huh. Right. Well, Bee, you are a bit fixated on stuff like this. I bet whoever's on will be fine about it." He reconsidered this. "Well, not Kuchiki. Or the ice midget, but you've got seniority on your side there. Or - "

"Oh Kami." Soi Fon hadn't missed a step or slowed, but she had paled considerably. "I just remembered who's on."

It had to be impressive to make her look like that, but no one came to mind. The General never took his squad on watch, and everyone else was reasonably laid back. Grimmjow frowned. "Who?"

"The Eighth."

Now Grimmjow was officially stumped. "What, Shunsui Kyouraku's squad? As in Shunsui 'Oh, wait, that was meant to happen today?' Kyouraku? As in Shunsui 'I just stopped off for some sake/napping/Nanao-chan, it wasn't that long' Kyouraku? Bee, he's the last guy who can bust you far bein' late."

"It's not that", she muttered. "He's just got a sixth sense about things – he's going to know exactly why we're late. And then spread it about the Seireitei. He's almost as bad for gossip as Rangiku or Yumichika."

"So what?" Grimmjow continued blithely, "It ain't gonna be news. We're consenting, adult souls. We live together. We certainly ain't quiet. I don't think the Soul Society's gonna be shocked by the fact we have sex."

"I just don't like my private life being discussed", Soi Fon groaned. "Especially by complete strangers. There's a reason it gets called a 'private' life."

Beside her, Grimmjow shrugged. "Well, if it means that much, I'll make a couple o' pointed threats. Or bypass him and go to his fiancée. That usually puts the fear of Kami into him."

Soi Fon laughed. "I don't think it has to be that extreme, I just - "

She broke off as they skidded inside the guard post, nodding to their squad members as they sought out something larger than life and rather pink.

Which, as it turned out, was behind them.

"Uncharacteristically tardy, Captain?" Shunsui boomed out as he approached them with a smile, Nanao at his side.

Attempting an apologetic smile, Soi Fon replied, "My apologies, Captain. I over slept."

Her fellow captain's gaze instantly went to a patch of her shoulder that, now that she recalled, had felt a fair bit of Grimmjow's teeth in the last half hour. Grinning maniacally now, Shunsui chuckled, "Overslept? Is that where you got that interesting – ooof!"

Soi Fon had never been so grateful for Nanao Ise and her elbows in her life. The captain's better half smiled as though she hadn't just violently silenced her fiancé, and broke in, "I am glad to see you well-rested, Captain Soi Fon and Lieutenant Jeagerjacques. I have meant to ask you now for some weeks – will you be attending the wedding?"

Beside Soi Fon, Grimmjow snorted. "Is there an open b – ooof!"

Soi Fon matched Nanao's smile exactly. "We'd love to. Congratulations, again, by the way."

Inclining her head gracefully, Nanao's smile widened. "Thank you. The ceremony and reception are to be held on Kyouraku grounds and", a twinkle of amusement entered her eyes, "there will be an open bar. Shunsui insisted on it."

"How very out of character", Soi Fon responded dryly.

"Hey, I'm right here!"

"Not for much longer", Nanao replied, taking his hand. "Our people have left, so it's all yours. Send out hell butterflies if anything unusual happens." She smiled wryly. "Not that anything ever does. Try to stay awake." With that, the two of them flashed away.

Soi Fon looked out over her troops and sighed.

"Let's get to work."

xXx

Not twenty minutes later, the troops had been dispatched to various points across the Rukongai, and Soi Fon and Grimmjow now began the tedious exercise of circulating.

As much as Soi Fon wished she could just sit in the main guardroom and control things from there, she had to admit, there was some merit in Grimmjow's suggestion that they attempt to swing by and check on everybody who was on watch. Being out on the field typically meant that she could respond faster to any urgent summons. True, these days such summons were largely false alarms, but it was a comfort to know that she could arrive swiftly if need be.

The fact that it put the fear of Kami into her division and kept them on their toes was just an added bonus.

Grimmjow's presence was something of a bonus, too. Typically, in peacetime, they would have had to split up to do this patrolling, but with war imminent, there was an understanding that any disturbances would probably require the two of them. It meant Soi Fon could keep him by her side during the shift, which went a long way toward making it bearable.

Not that she was telling him that.

"You really wanna go to the wedding?" Grimmjow's voice broke her out of her thoughts.

"Hmmm? Oh." Soi Fon shrugged. "It's polite. And it _is _an open bar and I've never objected to free drinks. Besides, while I could take or leave Shunsui, I quite like Nanao even though we have little contact. It's an important day for her, so it's nice to be there. Why? Don't you want to?"

Grimmjow shuddered. "Weddings are fucken nauseating."

"They don't have to be", Soi Fon pointed out absently.

He raised an eyebrow. "You getting' ideas, Bee?"

"What?" She blinked, stunned. "Fuck no!"

That should have been all well and good. Grimmjow was not at all inclined to get involved in any ceremony, but…

"Ouch, Bee. You could sound a little less horrified."

She rolled her eyes. "The objection isn't to you, it's to the idea. Marriage isn't the same here as in the living world. It just seems… like a lot of unnecessary fuss. In noble houses, like the Kyouraku's or the Shihoun's, it's a sign that you are now a part of the family and have a legitimate say in its affairs – you are legally an heir. For anyone else, well, it's just a ceremony. Sure, it's all about commitment, but it's just as easy to demonstrate that by living with each other for a few centuries, rather than getting flowers and tulle involved."

"Amen to that", Grimmjow muttered, shooting her a sidelong glance. "So, to clarify, if you absolutely had to - "

"If a zanpakuto were held at my throat and the demand issued that I get married", Soi Fon drawled, "then yes, it'd be you that I would drag kicking and screaming down the aisle. I want to live, after all."

He probably deserved that a little. "Damn, Bee. You know how to make a guy feel special."

"Well, I try." She smiled at him, shaking her head. "Idiot. You know I love you."

"Jus' like bein' reminded", Grimmjow admitted, as their pagers both began to beep. "What the - ?"

Soi Fon scanned the message, frowning. "They haven't sent up a flare."

"So they either want confirmation about what they're seein'", Grimmjow began, "or they've seen somethin' nasty and it hasn't seen them yet."

"West 63rd", Soi Fon muttered. "A bit of a hike."

"Best to move, then."

xXx

Out on the very rim of the 63rd district of West Rukongai, Soi Fon and Grimmjow slowed their paces, slipping through the trees and shadows to the concealed guard point. Nothing seemed at all out of place – silence reigned in this desolate place, far from any residences. Still, Soi Fon couldn't shake a certain edginess. She'd put it down to a figment of her imagination, until she noticed the tension in Grimmjow's shoulders. She raised an eyebrow, and he read her unspoken question.

"No idea", he uttered in a low growl, "but it still don't feel right. You notice it too, dontcha?"

She nodded, her face grim as they scaled the trees, entering the post to find two very alarmed looking shinigami taking turns to look through a large spyglass. They whipped around as soon as they sensed her, nodding in deference, before the shorted of the two began, "Captain Soi Fon, we have something of a situation."

Exchanging a glance with Grimmjow, Soi Fon sent out a silent prayer that this was just another false alarm.

_I take it all back. I'd rather be on tenterhooks than face this reality._

She cleared her throat. "Define situation."

The officer opened his mouth, and then shut it again, shivering. His companion offered, "It's better if you see it."

Taking the proffered spyglass, Soi Fon held it to one eye and aimed it in the direction they indicated.

Her heart stopped.

_No. Oh no._

With trembling hands, she lowered the instrument, focussing on breathing. Her unease must still have been apparent; Grimmjow laid a hand on her shoulder, with a frown on his face. Calming herself enough, she hoped, to speak, she queried in a whisper, "How many?"

"At least three hundred. All arrancar. We didn't see any numbers, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. They've suppressed our reiatsu like we have."

Soi Fon nodded, feeling numb. "Call the rest – silently. Tell them to suppress reiatsu and get here as fast as possible; I want them here ten minutes ago. We can probably handle this within the squad, but I want you to be ready to send off a hell butterfly for backup. Grimm, I need - "

"I know." Hefting Pantera, Grimmjow smirked. Ready when you are."

"There are a lot of them - "

"Ain't nothin' I can't handle."

Flashing him a quick, tight smile, Soi Fon replied, "Give it five minutes. I'll signal you."

He strode forward, pulling her to him and claiming her mouth with his own, ignoring the wide-eyed stares of their fellow squad members. It said something for Soi Fon's current state of mind that she ignored them too. Seconds later, he pulled back, tucking her bangs behind her ears with a grim smile.

"See you on the other side, Bee."

He slipped out the door, ready to get into position. Back in the guard post, Soi Fon blinked, before whirling around to face two slack-jawed squad members.

She raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have things to do?"

xXx

Grimmjow Jeagerjacques, standing at 6'4" with bright blue hair and an inability to keep his mouth shut, had seemed an unlikely addition to the Second Division, given that their official role in the Gotei Thirteen was that of the Stealth Force. However, in one sense, he was supremely valuable. Not every covert venture could succeed with stealth alone.

Sometimes, you needed a distraction.

The three hundred arrancar currently plodding through the Rukongai, since sonido and its brief flare of spiritual pressure would draw too much attention, were not aware of this. All they saw was a figure in front of them, dressed in shinigami robes but with a bone fragment attached to his face and a reiatsu that clearly screamed 'predator'. From his booted feet, so his maniacal grin and electric blue hair, this newcomer reeked of trouble, but their orders had been clear – annihilate all, even traitors to their race. The one exception to this rule – their spy, the once and future Fourth Espada – was not present. This one was fair game.

Except, fair game typically didn't point its sword at you and announce, "You're on my turf – shit's about to get real", before bellowing a war cry and hurling itself into battle.

Funnily enough, in all of this, the arrancar invaders didn't notice the small force readying themselves not a mile from where the fight was in progress.

Thus, a distraction.

xXx

As quickly as she was able, Soi Fon finished briefing her squad and guided them to the current battlefield, noting with pride that, if she weren't looking for them specifically, she'd never be able to pick them out from the shadows and trees. Still, she wished they'd move faster. It wasn't that she didn't think Grimmjow capable of handling himself, but three hundred to one was not exactly a ratio likely to inspire reassurance…

"Remember", she hissed into the darkness, "we attack by stealth. Lieutenant Jeagerjacques has their attention - "

The loud explosion sent beams of light through the trees, as a familiar voice bellowed out, "That all you got? Stop dancin' and fight me, you ugly fucks!"

" – and probably the attention of the whole district", Soi Fon continued, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes. "Now that they have revealed themselves, we can see what we're dealing with. They have numbers, but we have superior strength and reiatsu. That is not an excuse to get cocky." Taking a deep breath, and ignoring a cry of, "I am the mother-fucking _king,_ and y'all are my bitches! YE-AH!", Soi Fon directed, "Kido first. Bind as many as you can, then go in for the kill. Spread out and wait for my signal…"

Her eyes on the clearing in front of her, where she could glimpse it through the trees, Soi Fon tensed, waiting and choosing her weapon. Shunko would have been good, but its unstable nature could possibly have her killing just as many of her troops as theirs. Bankai would not do for close quarters and the disorganised nature of battle. Drawing Suzumebachi, she waited…

Only to feel a familiar spiritual energy blink, and then expand, thrilling the air around her as a lightning strike would. Her eyes widened.

_He's in his release form…_

_Now._

Surging forward, kido crackling from her fingertips, Soi Fon and the Second Division went to join Grimmjow.

It was a mess. They knocked off a few with kido, and Grimmjow had accounted for many, but they were still vastly outnumbered. Flashing through the crowd, Suzumebachi a blur on her finger, Soi Fon did what she could to disperse their enemies, all the while making her way to a figure in the centre of the melee. Grimmjow, too, was a blur of motion, a white and blue streak cutting through the crowd, claws and cero out. Dodging a severed head that flew by (Grimmjow's work, of course), Soi Fon whipped around, slicing through the throat of the willowy arrancar woman whose sword passed dangerously close to her eye. Flashing away, she skidded to a stop behind a burly creature about to butcher a member of her squad, tapping him twice on the shoulder with her blade, barely giving her crest time to form before the stroke killed him.

_Something to be said in Suzumebachi's favour – I don't have to worry about hitting a vital organ, so long as I hit the same spot twice._

Ducking as a sword whistled past her ear, Soi Fon scowled and plunged her blade into the offender's heart.

_Of course, vital organs work too._

They were making headway, she realised with tired triumph. The initial guesses had been correct – there were no Espada here – just rank and file. The numbers were even now, despite the losses her squad had sustained. Their enemies were beginning to draw back, in an attempt to regroup.

_We're getting through this. We're actually – _

A buzz of sonido beside her had her tense, zanpakuto ready, but when the figure materialised she smiled.

From his position beside her, Grimmjow, a little battered, but still very much intact, yelled across the field, "Come back an' get a piece of this, you pansy fuckers!" His claws lighting up, Soi Fon recognised the early stages of Desgarron and called the order for the Second to "Get behind us or die – your choice!"

The arcs of light shot out where he clawed, and most of the would-be escapees fell; limbs either severed or disintegrated with the force of the blast. Laughing in something of a disturbing fashion, Grimmjow turned to Soi Fon.

"Permission to pursue?"

She grinned back. "Absol - "

It was sudden, the feeling of a shift and the flare of power, but unmistakable.

"Garganta open", Grimmjow growled, his eyes narrowing.

"That – that's a vasto lorde, isn't it?" Soi Fon replied, with a calm she didn't feel, ignoring the horror-struck expressions on the faces around her.

"More than one", came the grim assessment.

She turned to him. "We need full mobilisation, and - "

"Only a captain can authorise it", he finished, his eyes ahead on what was to come. "You can't send a hell butterfly here – you're likely to get skewered before you deliver the message. Go, Bee. We'll hold 'em back."

"Grimm - "

"I'll be fine." He shot her a careless smile. "Ain't I always?"

Ignoring the lump in her throat, she nodded, before turning to what remained of her troops. "I'm requesting full mobilisation. I'll be out for a minute at most – follow the lieutenant's orders in the meantime. Hold formation!"

Her head reached out and clasped Grimmjow's for a moment, and then she was gone, just as the first blasts of cero rocketed past her. Thanking Kami that she'd been trained by the Goddess of Flash herself, Soi Fon raced through the trees, concealing as much of her reiatsu as she could.

_Another few steps should do it_ –

A bolt of cero blasted past her.

_Shit. Please let that just have gone astray._

Ducking behind a tree, she cast her senses out, searching for any pursuers.

_None… yet. Make it quick._

Reaching into the small pouch she kept on her belt, she drew out the hell butterfly 'cocoon' and let a spark of kido rush through it. Immediately, the butterfly emerged from its artificial shell, fluttering its wings tentatively. Soi Fon breathed a sigh of relief.

_I really should thank Kisuke. His storage idea may have just saved our lives._

_Not that I will._

Clearing her throat, she explained in a low, swift voice, "Attention all Gotei Thirteen personnel. This is Captain Soi Fon, currently stationed in the West 63rd requesting immediate backup." She paused, unsure of how to convey the gravity of the situation, before continuing with the simple statement, "It's begun." They'd all been waiting for war, they'd know what she meant.

Releasing the insect, she watched it flutter away clear of the trees, before turning to race back.

_Hold on Grimm, help is coming._

_Failing that, I am, too._

xXx

**I have figured out the Tite Kubo law of Canon Relationships in Bleach: For every supposed canon pairing, there is an equal and opposite supposed canon pairing.**

**Whish is why we get IchiHime and IchiRuki, or IchiRuki and RenRuki, or RenRuki and ByaRen (totally enough subtext to support it). In fact, the only semi-solid pairing we have is GinRan…**

**Of course, this could just be another ridiculous theory of mine. I have many and their ridiculosity (it's a word) increases in direct proportion to the amount of Canadian Club being drunk during formulation.**

**Funny, that.**

**Anyhoodle – enjoy, and R and R! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: *vicioux stares at Tite Kubo's lawyers* *lawyers crack knuckles*vicioux: Uh, it's his, ok?**

**…Please don't hurt me, nice lawyer people.**

**Oh God, save me. I'm too young and obnoxious to die…**

**Listening to: Kasabian – 'Fast Fuse' and Mumford and Sons – 'Dust Bowl Dance'.**

Chapter Nine

It had not been Byakuya Kuchiki's intention when he had first patronised 'Death and the Strawberry' and suggested the bar's very name, to become a regular. Renji, however, was and, seeing as Byakuya rather enjoyed the company of the man who had once been his lieutenant and was now his lover, the nobleman had found himself spending more and more of his off-duty hours within these four walls.

There were other sides to this enjoyment too. Nemu, as he had pointed out before, really did know how to mix a screwdriver, and the look on Ichigo Kurosaki's face whenever he was reminded of the name of said bar always brought cheer to Byakuya's soul. Equally amusing were the Shihoun clan's more uptight faces when they had learned that he patronised their dirty little secret; firstly because it had given Lady Yoruichi Shihoun, his old playmate, a much needed break from their complaints and, secondly, because those same faces had been just as disapproving when he had informed all the clans of the reason why he would not take another wife.

Byakuya could admit to himself that, every once in a while, he enjoyed a bit of subtle revenge.

Of course, clan disapproval had largely centred on the fact that said reason for remaining unmarried was a 6'4", very male, tattooed and red-haired captain. Byakuya had considered explaining why he had made that choice, but to truly explain things would be to describe to a cartel of antiquated, dried up nobles everything that Renji Abarai was.

And Byakuya didn't feel like sharing.

Still, the clan were not here tonight and he could forget their grumbles until the morrow. Renji _was_ here and that, frankly, was all that mattered to Byakuya, as he watched the younger man shaking his head in amusement at a drunken Captain Shuuhei Hisagi. The other newly promoted captain, his inability to hold his drink, and his complete obliviousness to this fact, were something of a running joke within the Seireitei. Currently, said captain was being helped back onto his barstool by Rangiku Matsumoto, who was equally drunk but at least wore it well. With a chuckle that sent thrills down Byakuya's spine, Renji turned back to grin at him, mischief clearly lurking in his eyes. Byakuya didn't need to hear the accompanying words.

His lips curling into the faintest of smiles, the noble inquired, "What did you do?"

Renji's grin widened. "A sorta experiment. I got Kira to swap Shuuhei's beers to light to see if it made any difference."

An eyebrow was raised. "I see", Byakuya drawled, "I would hazard a guess that it has not."

Renji shrugged. "We were actin' in his best interests. It's just apparent that Shuuhei's limit is three, no matter what he's drinkin'." The grin became positively diabolical. "And I'm gonna enjoy telling him that tomorrow."

Byakuya's smile, in turn, became clearer. "You are despicable, and I hope you are aware of that."

Mock gravity settled over Renji's face. "Oh, I know. I'm relying on you to reform me."

Fighting back the urge to chuckle, he simply replied, "I am no miracle worker. I fear you might be too wayward to be saved."

It was Renji's turn to raise an eyebrow, as gravity gave way to something else in those amber eyes, something far more… primal. "You should consider disciplining me. You know, since I'm so bad."

Byakuya took two things – a deep breath and a moment to regret they were in public. "Certainly, it is something I'll have to consider when we return home tonight. Perhaps - "

"Nii-sama!" Rukia had fought her way through the crowd to their table, a constantly scowling Kurosaki in tow. Leaning forward to hug both men, she grinned. "I'm heading off home, so I'll see you tomorrow."

Byakuya nodded, the over-protective brotherly instinct coming to the fore. Before he was even aware of it, he found himself and Renji asking in unison if she wanted company on the walk back (though, admittedly, in very different words). Kurosaki snorted, but Rukia simply shook her head. "It's ok, Ichigo's walking me home." Instantly two sets of eyes fixed on the young Vizard, both warning against any 'funny business' in expressions so clear they needed no words. Byakuya had the pleasure of seeing Kurosaki pale slightly and shift in a manner that was decidedly uncomfortable. He farewelled his younger, adopted sister and her distinctly nervous would be bodyguard and suitor. Renji, too, watched them go, musing, "You think he'll ever tell her?"

"How he feels?" Byakuya contemplated this for mere moments. "I hope not."

Renji shook his head. "Who else would you imagine for her? They've been inseparable since day one, and his crazy-ass reiatsu is one of the only things your clan is gonna let override a noble alliance." Renji paused, frowning. "Unless you want her in a noble alliance."

"I do not." Byakuya sighed. "I did not phrase my answer correctly. The last thing I wish for is Rukia in a noble marriage. Very few scions of the clans would be willing to consider her, given her birth, and any who did could potentially hold it against her – that is hardly the life I would have for her. I just…" He broke off, his eyes stirring with something like melancholy. "I just want to keep her safe with me. I know it is irrational – she's a grown woman and a capable shinigami. But there it is."

Renji smiled slightly, understanding lighting his features. "This is a 'no promotions' thing, isn't it?"

"It is." Byakuya frowned, staring into his drink. "I also know that that, too, will have to change. My head knows that I am not truly losing her but, all the same…"

"I know." Renji's simple reply reminded Byakuya that this was the one man in the Seireitei, other than himself, who could understand what it was to be Rukia Kuchiki's older brother. None of them might have been related by blood, and yet the bonds that held them together were just as strong as any other family.

Running a hand through his hair, Renji queried, "Would it be so terrible if it had to be Ichigo? They _are_ good together."

Byakuya's faint smile had returned. "They are. I will concede that one to you. Only that one, mind."

"Generous of you", Renji rejoined, a smile playing on his lips.

"I thought so."

Distraction came, in the form of a hell butterfly winging through the crowd. Byakuya frowned. Hell butterflies were strictly for Gotei Thirteen purposes – sending one into a bar to pass on messages was definitely contravening this practice. Unless…

_Unless this is an urgent call to all of us, something much more likely now than it was six months ago._

Renji had also picked up on this. He swiftly drained his glass, a hand on the zanpakuto concealed at his side, and watched the message-bearer's progress until it landed on the bar top.

Immediately, the familiar voice of Captain Soi Fon rang out into the now-silent bar.

"Attention all Gotei Thirteen personnel. This is Captain Soi Fon, currently stationed in the West 63rd requesting immediate backup."

"It's begun."

The flurry of movement that followed this was rapid and chaotic, leaving them both barely any time to think. Renji, however, seized the opportunity. As they both rose from the table, the redhead pulled Byakuya into a passionate kiss, hand threading through his hair, pulling him close. Byakuya let his surroundings fade away, lost in the feeling, until Renji pulled away as quickly as he'd initiated things, a bittersweet smile on his face. Leaning in to whisper to Byakuya, "Just in case", Renji turned back to where Captain Ukitake was issuing instructions and Byakuya, finishing Renji's thought, felt his heart crack a little in fear.

_Just in case this is the last time._

Slipping his hand carefully into Renji's, Byakuya was determined.

_Fear not, Renji. I will not let it be. Not when I have only just found this._

He was rewarded by his old lieutenant's smile and a squeeze of the hand, as they moved out to face their enemy.

xXx

It was only when they had started to close in on their destination that Byakuya had felt it. This was saying something – Ichigo Kurosaki's spiritual pressure was hard to miss. However, with the flares of power emanating from the battlefield, picking out individual reiatsus, unless the bearer was something fairly impressive, was almost impossible.

What truly disquieted Byakuya was the fact that he could pick out Rukia's.

Beside him, he heard Renji curse inventively as he came to the same conclusion, muttering something about killing a strawberry. Byakuya would have liked to indulge this fantasy, but he knew the reality of the situation – Rukia was an officer of the Gotei Thirteen, honour-bound to help in these situations. Not even the force that was Captain Kurosaki could keep her from the field.

That being said, he had better damn well be looking out for her, or Byakuya was going to rip off his –

They came to a stop, listening as Captain Ukitake issued instructions. His hand tense upon Senbonzakura's hilt, Byakuya sought the eyes of his old sensei, desperately trying to convey the message – _It doesn't matter where you send Renji and I, we will be joining Rukia, potential court-martialling be damned._

Judging from the slightly rueful look on Jyuushiro Ukitake's face, the message was received loud and clear. Ignoring Renji as he signalled to both his and Kurosaki's lieutenants, Byakuya broke away from the crowd, flash stepping toward his destination. He hadn't needed the older captain's warning about their foes – Byakuya could sense a vasto lorde in his sleep, and when there were three of them…

Renji, Lieutenant Hinamori and Lieutenant Izuru were hot on his heels, though Renji was the only one quite as unsettled as he was.

_He can feel it too. Curse Ichigo Kurosaki and his inability to control his reiatsu – it's like a siren's call to any and every hollow out there. I can sense three vasto lorde out there, and each one is heading right for him._

_And Rukia…_

As if he could read Byakuya's mind (occasionally he was so accurate, Byakuya had wondered), Renji appeared beside him, grim determination on his face as he simply stated, "We'll get there first. Even if we don't, Ichigo, for all their insult trading, loves her more than his own life. Hell, we've seen it first hand. He'll protect her"

The knowledge was comforting, but the memories it brought back were not. In his mind's eye, Byakuya saw the boy lying in a pool of his own blood, half-dead from the ravages of Senbonzakura, as Byakuya turned his back, leading his imprisoned sister through the gate between worlds. He saw the hopelessness in the boy's eyes when he faced him a second time, bleeding through his bandages and, worst of all, he saw the man beside him, defeated and bloody at Byakuya's own hands. As his eyes shuttered, he murmured, "Ichigo is not the only one who has proven that."

The knowing look Renji fixed him with only leant credibility to Byakuya's mind-reading theory. "That wasn't your fault. Hell, I almost offed the brat myself. We were all fooled. It's over anyway – he's fine, she's fine and - " His hand slipped into Byakuya's as they raced across the landscape, "I'm fine."

Byakuya sighed, before replying, "I am aware of this, however - "

"It'll be enough", Renji countered. "Ichigo can handle himself with a vasto lorde, and Rukia's no weakling. She _did_ kick the crap outta one of the original Espada."

Once again, Renji had managed to answer the unasked question. Byakuya's face must have clearly displayed his shock, because Renji just chuckled.

"Seriously? I was your lieutenant for a decade and we been together a year. You're not easy to read, by any stretch of the imagination, but I ain't completely unobservant."

Be that as it may, Byakuya wouldn't rule out mind reading just yet. Just in case.

Their path was suddenly lit by a powerful kido spell, lightning crackling across the trees, infused with a familiar spiritual pressure. Byakuya raised an eyebrow. "What puzzles me exceedingly is how Rukia's powers appear to have advanced in such a short time. She has clearly been training with someone, and yet Captain Ukitake assured me he had obeyed my request to let her develop slowly." Byakuya had a very clear idea of who the actual culprits were (and that there were two of them), but he was curious to hear Renji's response…

Which was to attempt to plaster an innocent expression on his face and blithely reply, "Well, I know she was helping Ichigo with kido. Maybe she asked for help with her swordplay in return?"

Their targets were in sight now, as they made out a fierce figure in black, a slender dark sword in his hand as he flitted around the scene of battle, and another figure, not as fast, but more graceful and controlled, dispatching enemies just as efficiently. Byakuya smiled, despite his concern. "Kurosaki, you say? Perhaps he has had a hand in it. But there is another familiar element in her movement, a sort of determination and ferocity without Kurosaki's reckless abandon. What do you say, Renji?"

His companion now looked slightly alarmed. "Uh, can't think what you mean, sorry. Maybe she's just mixin' her style with his."

Byakuya's lips twitched. Renji, he knew, couldn't dissemble to save himself, and this was but clear proof. Deciding to spare him, Byakuya simply squeezed his hand before drawing his weapon, whispering, "Thank you."

_I might not like Rukia's ambition to attain more power, but if it saves her I am willing to tolerate almost anything._

Effortlessly, Byakuya slipped between his adopted sister and her current foe, neatly decapitating the arrancar, before releasing his sword and letting the deadly petals fly through the air. He turned to face Rukia, who seemed to be a mix between overjoyed and slightly disgruntled.

"Nii-sama, you're alright! Ichigo said you'd probably be here soon, since the bar's closer than the Seireitei. You didn't need to worry about me though – Ichigo's the one they keep flocking to."

He was at that. Renji and the two lieutenants were doing what they could to dispose of the sheer numbers that were being thrown at them, but it was clearly no easy task. Like Ichigo, Renji had released his Bankai, and Zabimaru cut great swathes through the enemies they faced, but still more would take their places. Gathering Senbonzakura's petals to him, Byakuya nodded to his sister.

"Let's join them."

She grinned in response, her sword in one hand and a crackling fist full of power in the other. Belatedly, Byakuya wondered if he should add a third culprit to Rukia's training list – Nanao Ise. Given Rukia's proficiency with kido, it seemed more than likely that she'd caught the attention of a Kido Master. With a sudden shock, it occurred to Byakuya that, despite all his best efforts to prevent promotion, Rukia, with her kido, her administrative talents and vast improvements, was but Bankai away from being an eligible captaincy candidate.

_And she is far closer to Bankai than I anticipated. If she does achieve such a thing, not only will her position in the clan become unassailable, but…_

_I will not be able to keep her from harm much longer. I am a realist – we will lose captains in this fight. She will be needed._

With mixed feelings, Byakuya watched her as she froze three arrancar solid, encased in her snow prison, only to slice them apart. Forcing his disquiet aside, he let Senbonzakura surge forward, the blades tearing through one of Renji's would be attackers. The other captain threw him a grin, before binding a foe that attempted to reach Momo Hinamori. Byakuya raised an eyebrow.

_Apparently, Ichigo was not the only one Rukia assisted with kido. I wonder –_

His train of thought ended abruptly, as their enemies suddenly turned tail and vanished, sonido aiding their escape. Renji looked over to Byakuya, the senior captain. "Do we pursue?"

He frowned. "Not yet. First I wish to ascertain their purpose in flight – they were not in a position where they needed to do so. They didn't have the advantage, but neither did we, entirely. This concerns me."

"In living world movies, it usually means something terrible and nasty is behind us", Rukia piped up.

Ichigo scowled, and turned around to face her. "I should never have let you watch…"

He trailed off, eye widening at something over their shoulders. "Uh, guys? Not to be an alarmist…"

They all turned to face this new surprise, Renji muttering under his breath about clichés, and stopped.

The three vasto lorde, it seemed, had finally caught up with them.

They were not attractive creatures, by any stretch of the imagination. The first had too many legs, almost like an over-large spider, its mask covering what appeared to be multiple eyes and extending down into a set of four very deadly looking pincers. The second was more like a human, but with sharp spines down its back, and taloned arms that were disproportionately long when compared to the rest of its body. The third and final one resembled nothing more than a large tentacled blob, its entire body armoured and masked. All looked like trouble, and all had spiritual pressures that were currently being brought to bear on the six shinigami in front of them. None of them faltered, but from the corner of his eye, Byakuya could see that the two lieutenants were struggling. Rukia was not – he still wasn't sure how he felt about that. Instead, she stood there, regarding the tentacled creature with a grimace, before turning to Ichigo.

"You know", she pointed out, her nose wrinkled, "there's a really disturbing living world pop culture reference just waiting to be made about Mr. Tentacles."

Ichigo's eyes widened as he sputtered, "But – but how – do I want to know how you know this?"

"The interweb", she replied proudly, clearly triggering something in Renji's mind as he frowned.

"I thought it was called something else. Something blog... whatever the hell that is."

Ichigo groaned, rolling his eyes. "I'm never taking either of you to the living world again."

A malevolent hiss drew their attention back to their opponents, as the spider-creature snapped out, in a voice laden with malice, "Do you mind?"

It was Renji, of all people, who had apparently chosen to temporarily channel Byakuya. As Zabimaru coiled around him, he simply raised an eyebrow and replied, "Not at all."

It was moments like that that reminded Byakuya quite forcefully that he loved that man. Of course, unless you were part of a very select group of people – Renji and Rukia in total – he wasn't about to admit to anything. To be a Kuchiki, after all, was to play your cards close to your chest.

Which was precisely what Renji was _not_ doing by hurling himself at the ape-like creature with spines.

All hell broke loose – Ichigo immediately targeted the tentacled creature, his lieutenant at his side. Momo had followed Renji, who was having trouble catching the surprisingly swift foe in front of him, and was now shooting kido spells to throw it into the path of Zabimaru's jaws. Rukia was doing much the same thing, only across both fights.

Byakuya sighed and turned to face the spider-like opponent in front of him. Apparently, this was going to be his fight by default. He didn't begrudge the other captains their assistants; on the contrary, he was grateful. Renji had never faced a vasto lorde before and, while Byakuya was certain he could handle himself, he couldn't suppress a twinge of fear. At least he would have help.

Still, it would have been nice to have some back up.

He saw no point in dancing around the point. Drawing Senbonzakura's petals back into their sealed form, he gathered his strength, his eyes never leaving his opponent as he spoke the words, "Bankai…"

The air was alive with shards of his zanpakuto, but the creature, with its multiple limbs, seemed able to scurry and evade them all, using the sting at the end of its abdomen to fire deadly cero at him. Byakuya dodged, his attention all on ending this as quickly as possible. Senbonzakura whipped through the air around them, so many near misses only adding to Byakuya's aggravation.

Not that he let it show. He was a Kuchiki, after all, and even if he wanted nothing more than to rip this creature to shreds and flash step immediately to Renji's aid, he was not going to loose his temper, no matter how tempting it might be.

He analysed the creature in front of him, noting the segmented armour, the smooth, rapid movement, and fought the urge to scowl.

_No apparent weaknesses? Am I to merely keep fighting until I wear the nigh-impenetrable armour down? _

_What is it that Renji says? Ah, of course – _

_Oh, joy._

His eyes narrowing in concentration, Byakuya flung the highest level of non-verbal kido that he was capable of at the creature, simultaneously shifting Senbonzakura rapidly to his target as it dodged. Still it evaded him, but the blades did slice through one of the bristly hairs sprinkled on the creature's limbs. Immediately, something noxious dripped to the ground, smoking as it made contact. It was hard to spot an expression on that masked face, but Byakuya could have sworn the vasto lorde looked smug.

_Oh joy, indeed. Apparently this being has poison dripping from its pores. What fun._

Centring himself, Byakuya rapidly considered his options.

_I cannot allow it to get too close to me – I don't particularly wish to discover what exactly that toxin will do to me. I need to keep moving – the cero it shoots is considerably stronger than that of its fellows. In addition to this, the creature is swift and capable of manoeuvring quickly and well. I need to cut off all avenues of escape. _

An expression that bordered on a scowl on his aristocratic features, Byakuya made his plans, dodging the occasional cero as he shifted Senbonzakura's petals through the air, letting his enemy temporarily give chase. Suddenly, without warning, he turned around to face his pursuer, all the blades of Senbonzakura converging on their target, whipping through the air. Byakuya couldn't help the surge of triumph as the vasto lorde was blocked out by a mass of pink…

Only to have that triumph disappear rapidly when said vasto lorde reappeared somewhere very different to where that mass of pink was currently situated.

_And it has mastered rudimentary sonido, too._

_This is not exactly how I was hoping for this battle to progress._

Careful to keep his rage from his face, Byakuya directed his blade to his enemy's new location, throwing a kido spell after for good measure. What happened next was yet another of those things he didn't expect.

Rudimentary sonido, apparently, was not the most apt term for what this creature could achieve.

He'd thought himself out of range, but when the vasto lorde appeared mere feet away from him, he was forced to reassess that. He dodged of course, and immediately flash stepped elsewhere, but not before he felt the slightest of grazes, as the creature's foreleg just brushed his skin.

Bourne by his flash step, he at least managed to land in a heap a fair distance from his foe, as every muscle he possessed seemed to seize up. In shock, he lost control of Senbonzakura, the petals flying where they would, and it was only through a supreme effort of will that he regained enough of a hold on them to keep others from being hurt. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he tightened this hold, drawing the petals back –

It wasn't going to be fast enough. The vasto lorde knew it too, not even bothering to hurry its steps as it came toward him, pincers clicking in anticipation.

_There is no way out. This is it, or so it seems. Renji…_

_I can only hope he forgives me._

Closing his eyes, Byakuya waited for death…

…Only to be forced to re-open them seconds later, when death failed to eventuate.

Standing between him and a now semi-frozen vasto lorde was a petite brunette, yelling at her captive to 'leave Nii-sama alone'. The vasto lorde struggled to free itself from this prison in vain, before Zabimaru roared and descended upon it, the unearthly noise and power flare telling Byakuya that his opponent had been taken care of. Slowly, he felt some of the feeling return to his fingertips, followed by considerably more as strong arms encircled him, lifting him up and crushing him in a hug.

Carefully, Byakuya lifted the arm he felt had the most movement to rest on Renji's. "I know. I will not let this occur again."

There was a hitch in Renji's voice when he replied, his voice muffled in Byakuya's hair, "Damn straight. Now who's the mind reader? Do you think you can stand?"

With some effort and assistance, Byakuya struggled to his feet, sealing Senbonzakura as he rose to watch his sister and Kurosaki working together to dispatch a few minor hollows. This problem dealt with, Rukia flashed back to them, her face concerned. "Are you alright, Nii-sama? Should we take you to the Fourth?"

"A brief rest will suffice, thank you", Byakuya answered, his mind racing.

_You no longer need me to arrive to save the day._

_And if I cannot do that much for you, what use am I as 'Nii-sama'?_

Renji, still supporting Byakuya with one arm, snaked the other around Rukia's waist and pulled her into a tight hug, simply whispering, "Thank you."

Her brow furrowed. "For which bit?"

Renji pulled back, a crooked smile on his face. "For him."

As much as the sentiment thrilled him, Byakuya had an image to maintain. "I _am_ present."

"Oh, we know. How could we forget?", Renji responded, some of the shadows in his smile dissipating. "Are you sure you're good?"

Biting back the reply that Renji knew he was very, very good, Byakuya simply stated, "We've dispatched of three vasto lorde. All of the others are relatively inconsequential. With your assistance I am sure I can manage. Although, if that garganta is still open…"

"It's not", Renji informed him. "If you'd been less occupied, you'd have seen the cavalry."

Byakuya frowned. "We don't have a cavalry."

"Have you seen Nel's release form?"

"Ah."

"Anyway", Rukia pointed out as she hefted Sode no Shirayuki, "the point is, even if they sent out some of the new Espada, they have nothing on the old. I'd say it's time to bring it."

As he followed his unusual family into the fray, Byakuya gazed out over the field of felled trees, fires and bodies.

_So it begins…_

xXx

**Reviews – the currency of this website.**

**Y'all wouldn't let me be poor, now, would you? It's bad enough that I am in reality…**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: *maniacal laughter***

… **Not mine. **

**Yet.**

**Listening to: Interpol – 'Hands Away' and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – 'Sweetheart, Come'.**

Chapter Ten

He was too old for this.

Oh, he'd looked too old for the job for at least three centuries now – that didn't bother him. He'd let the façade of his age conceal the vigour within, and it had fooled them all, even Aizen, in the end. But now, with too many poor decisions behind him, a war to face once more, dissent within the ranks and an old injury, he finally felt his years, centuries upon centuries.

The fight with Sousuke had been the beginning of the end, in a way. He'd won, of course, and delivered them all from disaster. No one else could have done so – even Kurosaki with his freakish power would have taken a good decade to reach the level required to defeat someone like Sousuke Aizen. It had not been without cost, though.

The wound stubbornly refused to fully heal. He was still mostly mobile, his arm still able to move fairly freely, but he saw through Retsu's placid calm to the concern in her eyes. He'd always fought back fiercely from such injuries, but now…

_I am too old for this._

Today had been another one of those days when it had been brought home to him. Another battle, another meeting, only this one was different.

The Vizard had returned.

They had refused to be placed under Gotei Thirteen command, which hadn't surprised him in the least. He had so many regrets now, so many that sprang from those five defiant figures (and there had once been eight), and his treatment of them in the last war was just one more. He tried to tell himself that, in a life as long as his had been, it was only natural to have things that he might wish had been different, things he could have done differently…

Telling himself that didn't make it any easier to face the accusations in Shinji's eyes, or the disdain Yoruichi had greeted him with when he had tried speaking to her after the meeting, querying why not only the Vizard, but also the Ryoka, had placed themselves in the hands of House Shihoun and not the Gotei Thirteen.

_She raised an eyebrow, a hint of contempt in her gold eyes. _

"_You're seriously asking me this?"_

_He frowned. _

"_You said you had no idea that they would turn to you as an advocate. Do you deny that statement now?"_

_She snorted. "Not at all. But it's what I'd do in their position, and the reasoning is fairly obvious."_

_His silence was a clear invitation to an explanation._

_She sighed. "The Vizard's reasoning is clear – you dicked them over in the last war_ _and they'd hardly expect better now__. Frankly, I don't even know why they came back. As for the rest…" She began to tick them off on her fingers. "The Quincy hate Shinigami but, as Ryuuken so bluntly put to me, they don't trust you enough to save the world, so they can't stay away, but they also don't trust you to command them. And the kids… Well, think about it. The first time they showed up, you had us all trying to kill them. You forbid Orihime's rescue, then used them all ruthlessly in battle. They were barely more than children then. They're older and wiser now. And Isshin's been there, done that." Her eyes were accusing now, so like Shinji's._

"_I had no choice." The words he'd clung to for so long slipped from his lips before he could stop them. She looked at him pityingly._

"_I know we're not the only one's applying pressure. I know you have to put up with crap from almost every quarter, and I'm sorry for it. But there's always a choice." _

_She paused, and looked almost thoughtful. _

"_Y'know, if I think back far enough, I can almost remember what it was like to have a Captain Commander who'd do what was right, and fuck the consequences."_

_Her vulgarity did not shock him as much as the truth in her statement, as she turned on her heel and walked out._

He had been that man once, this he knew. It seemed so long ago, though, caught up in the memory of ages. So many things seemed far away now. He'd once had students that he'd loved almost as children – Shunsui, Retsu, Jyuushiro and… Shinji. Shinji, he knew, was lost to him forever, and Retsu's regard for him was duty and little more. She had no cause to love some of the proclamations he'd made over the last two centuries – so many of the Vizard had been part of the old crowd, part of her circle of friends. His use of the Eleventh Division as almost cannon-fodder (well, they did end up in the firing line anyway, by dint of their personalities) did not sit well with her, but there was little he could do about it. There was little he could do about anything, he'd begun to realise.

As for Jyuushiro and Shunsui… he just didn't know anymore. They were willing to oppose him, this he knew from the Rukia Kuchiki affair, but Jyuushiro at least would still support him on occasion.

But they had all drifted apart after the Vizard ruling. True, that had been the only option he could take based on the evidence, but now, knowing what he knew, he wished he had searched more closely, trusted Sousuke less. He'd made a grave error that night and, while he wasn't the only one to do so, it had been his error that had the most serious repercussions. Some days he wondered if that had been a part of Sousuke's plan, to sow such far-reaching distrust that even his death would not eradicate all of the divisions he had wrought.

Knowing Sousuke, it was more than probable.

With a frown, he stared down at his desk. This was all beside the main point – he was no longer the leader he should be. His captains looked to him only as a matter of form, there was no longer any bond of loyalty or protection. He was a general that no one would follow into battle. Perhaps that was taking the extreme view of things, they still all followed his orders. However, he suspected that, should his actual orders and their idea of what his orders ought to be suffer any discrepancies, things would be very different.

_I must regain their loyalty, but how? How can you mend something so very broken?_

Sighing, he leant back in his chair, trying and failing to remember better days.

Once more, the thought came unbidden –

_I am too old for this._

xXx

**Just a quick interlude with His Captain-Commanderiness. I feel sorry for the guy. I've painted him as a bit of an asshat in these fics, but the sad reality of it is, his past decisions and current pressures (as I see them) make these events all too likely. At the same time, though, I can also see how he'd feel trapped by all of his responsibilities.**

**Thus, this little snippet, by way of explanation. Hope you likey.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I use haikus to**

**Sound vaguely intelligent.**

**Bleach ain't mine. Fo' shiz.**

**Listening to: The Yeah Yeah Yeahs – 'Cheated Hearts'.**

Chapter Eleven

Personally, Yoruichi Shihoun blamed everything in her life on circumstance.

The lives of women in the noble houses were never meant to involve control; that she had always known. She was supposed to smile sweetly, obey everything her betters said, and, above all, marry _up_.

…Well, she'd screwed the pooch on that one.

She didn't smile at noble functions; she bared her teeth at anyone who crossed her. She didn't obey orders; she was born to give them, a commander once and forever. And, worst of all according to the clan elders, she hadn't married, but 'lived in a singularly inappropriate manner' with a slightly deranged scientist-soldier who had only recently been pardoned and had the order for his execution, an order that had stood for almost one hundred years, torn up.

So she could see that there were slight deviations to the path her family intended for her and, once again, she was a victim of circumstance.

After all, it wasn't her fault that she had a predisposition toward espionage, definitely a Shihoun clan trait, that had hindered all her attempts to act like a proper lady – though she would concede that those attempts had been few and far between. It was also decidedly not her fault that the Shihouns had a bad habit of assassinating one another, and various ambitious individuals had ended up picking off all of the heirs (and often dying themselves) until they got to her. Similarly, it wasn't her fault that she was very, very good at not dying – she wielded knives like they were extensions of her arms, was unmatched in hand to hand combat, and could spot a trip wire from twenty paces. Once she had become clan leader, then, it was necessary to give up the image of the delicate flower and take command, no matter how many shocked gasps emerged from the peanut gallery. And then she'd taken on the role of Stealth Force/Second Division captain and leader of the Punishment Squad, which had well and truly killed the whole 'delicate flower' idea. Circumstance, too, had drawn her to the one woman who knew what it was like to live her kind of life, her lieutenant, offsider, and sister (from another mister, as she liked to joke to Soi Fon's consternation). Sure, she'd drawn a lot of fire for befriending an 'underling', as her Aunt Reiko delicately put it (not), but the result had been a friendship that had changed them both irrevocably, and she was glad of it. Still, she set tongues wagging with her actions and was constantly fighting over-conservative elders in order to live her life they way she wanted to.

But she couldn't have helped it. See? _Circumstance._

Just like she couldn't help noticing her Third Seat.

After all, a captain needed to be aware of her subordinates, especially those who had ascended the ranks _that_ rapidly. That the man was also a bona fide genius and a little bit bat-shit insane only added to that need to be observant of him and, when coupled with a wicked grin, mischievous grey eyes, and the ability to make her laugh…

Well, how was she expected not to fall in love with Kisuke Urahara? Once again, she was Yoruichi Shihoun: clan leader, captain, and victim of forces outside of her control.

Being in love with Kisuke Urahara had its own set of pitfalls. The clan hated him (he was nowhere near the highly-ranked noble alliance they had in mind), he had a habit of spending more time with the bizarre inventions in his makeshift lab than with her, and, eventually, it was one of those inventions that lead to his death sentence.

Kisuke, too, as it turned out, had the same problem with circumstance.

He'd been made too clever, too inquisitive for his own good. He couldn't _not_ try to explore the possibilities of the world he lived in, couldn't _not_ try to push boundaries. And, like so many fine minds and the inventions that created them, his work was used for all the wrong purposes by a traitor who had watched, waited and manipulated.

He was blamed, of course, but Yoruichi sympathised entirely. She knew all too well what it was like to be blamed for something you couldn't change.

Naturally, she'd followed him into panicked exile. To know Kisuke Urahara was to either love him or hate him, and she'd already picked the former. She was not the sort of person who loved easily but, once she did, she was in for life. She'd left behind the only other person she loved, a decision that cost her every day and drove something of a wedge between the two exiles. She remained by his side for the first decade, helping everyone settle in to their new lives, but it hurt too much some days to see him there and remember the 'little sister' she'd left behind.

So she travelled. Wanderlust was also another trait she was not meant to be born with, and yet seemed to have in abundance anyway (again – not her fault).

Still, she always came back – back to him, back to their little band of exiles.

And, eventually, back home.

She couldn't help coming back, either. Not when everything was in such a mess and she finally had the chance to put right the wrongs of their exile. Not when there were people left that she cared for, and deeply. Soi Fon had, of course, not taken it well initially (to put it lightly), but once her protégé had stopped trying to kill her, they'd sorted things out (and she was rather proud of how close her little bee had come at points, even as she was relieved that she hadn't succeeded).

They had exposed Aizen as a traitor, gotten everyone pardoned (eventually), and now Kisuke was back in his lab, exploding things with impunity… most of the time. She, however, had not come back truly. She gladly stepped back into her clan role, much to the elders' consternation, which she enjoyed immensely. The role of Second Division captain, though, was Soi Fon's. She'd earned it and Yoruichi was not about to take anything else from her pseudo-sibling and best friend.

It was strange to be back. She pulled the clan out of debt, made inroads into restoring them to respectability which, given that their competition involved the Kyouraku and Shiba families, wasn't hard (You could never match the Kuchikis, and it was pointless trying. Besides, Byakuya might not play tag with her anymore if she did). And then…

Well, she was a little bored. Harassing Bee and Kisuke in their respective offices was fun, but not a profession. Running a living-world themed club pissed off her clan and brought in the profits, but it couldn't occupy all her free time. It was, unfortunately, in her nature to get bored easily.

And then, some particularly cruel god had clearly gotten wind of her prayers for something interesting to happen, and had thrown them all into battle again.

Now, as she prepared to work with a force of shinigami, quincy, vizard and ryoka, all of whom had placed themselves under her command, she had to curse circumstance. She hadn't asked to be the only figure in the war powerful enough and unallied to the Gotei Thirteen (officially) to command troops who didn't trust the Captain-Commander. Once again, it had been out of her control.

As Yoruichi scowled at the papers on her desk and tried to ignore the sounds of disgruntled clan members outside of her locked office door, she had to concede that circumstance, while often her friend, was occasionally an unholy bitch to try and work with.

xXx

It was midnight before she managed to slip away from a raucous meeting of 'the troops' as they had attempted to work through where the individual members of their motley crew would be stationed. Even now, they were probably all arguing amongst themselves and hadn't even noticed the black cat slipping out of the window.

She padded down the street, a faint breeze ruffling her fur and bringing relief to the warm night.

_Summer soon. Almost the opposite of the last war…_

She sighed, and her whiskers shifted as she sniffed elegantly.

_Did we actually achieve anything tonight? We agreed that the Kurosaki girls, Hachi and Orihime should be left with the healers, with the quincy as their protectors, and that we were willing to place people under Ichigo's command… I'm not too keen on that idea, though. Poor Strawberry has had to deal with enough crap this year; getting him to face off with the Captain-Commander again over our lot isn't fair on him._

_What else, then?_

_Ryuuken threatening Isshin with doom if he didn't shut up, Shinji and Hiyori bickering endlessly, Lisa attempting to corrupt Karin with her 'literature', and Jinta continuing to challenge Rose to a fight. _

_Oh, what a focused bunch we are._

_And I'm their leader. _

_Why me?_

_Well, it's not that bad, at least. We got Chad to agree to work with Jinta and Ururu within Kisuke's squad, though Chad will agree to anything to keep the peace. _

_Huh, now I just have to break the news to Kisuke._

Her train of thought was interrupted by a figure steeping out of the shadows, cane in hand and a grin on his face as he threw her a haori. She blinked up at him, and his grin widened.

"Yep, we're goin' somewhere."

That didn't work for Yoruichi. As far as she was concerned, the only place she was heading to was a nice, soft bed.

Kisuke clearly could decipher the expression on her face; he'd gotten alarmingly good at telling what she was thinking about in her cat form. His grin widened.

"Ah, but you'll like this one. Guess who's finally woken up and is ready for visitors?"

Instantly she'd shifted, quickly covering herself with the haori. "Bee's awake?"

"Unohana sent the hell-butterfly. Soi Fon said she feels ready to leave but, since they're keeping her in a day or two more to observe, she demands company other than Grimmjow. Apparently he's a little too restless for bedside vigils."

Yoruichi snorted to herself. Grimmjow was not a 'sit still and offer comfort' kind of guy – he was far too energetic and, well, tactless. But, more importantly, Bee was awake and recovered. She'd been taken out of the last battle when the Second Division had attempted to keep an invading force at bay. They'd held their own too, until a garganta had opened between worlds and back up had arrived. Soi Fon had been flown, by Ulquiorra as he terrified everyone with his final release form, back to the Fourth to be healed and that was the last anyone had heard from her, almost three days ago now. Needless to say, Yoruichi had been somewhat frantic ever since and, now that she could actually see Bee –

"Lead the way."

xXx

Slipping through the corridors, Yoruichi and Kisuke arrived at the right door, careful not to disturb anyone that needed quiet. Captain Unohana might give the impression of being the sweet, quiet and gentle substitute mother you'd always wanted, but she _was_ the woman who had managed to bring Kenpachi Zaraki to heel.

Sort of.

Captain Zaraki had been responsible for markedly less property damage lately, though perhaps you'd never be able to describe him as being 'brought to heel'. Still, as Kenpachi himself had proudly stated, "You fuck with Retsu, an' it's probably the last thing you'll ever do."

Yoruichi and Kisuke concurred. As Kisuke carefully opened the door and let her through, he closed it slowly, determined not to wake anyone that shouldn't be woken.

Turned out, he shouldn't have bothered.

They'd been concentrating on their own noise-making (or lack thereof) so closely that they'd dismissed the buzzing sound as mere background noise.

It turned out that Grimmjow snored. Or, rather –

Kisuke raised an eyebrow and directed his question to the petite figure in the bed. "Is he… purring?"

Soi Fon grinned. "Finally, I can prove it to him; it's not just me that thinks it. Grimm insists that it's just snoring – 'manly snoring' he maintains – but I'm sorry, it sounds just like you, Lady Yoruichi, when you get scratched behind the ears."

Shaking with silent laughter, Yoruichi nodded. It was Kisuke who continued the conversation.

"So, Grimm-kitty purrs in his sleep? That's priceless!"

Soi Fon's grin widened. "Can I get a signed statement from you stating that, firstly, this is purring and, secondly, why it is purring rather than snoring? I think it'll sound better coming from a scientist."

Kisuke considered this. "A long-running argument, I see. Well, then. Does the information in such a statement have to be entirely factual?"

As nice as it was to see those two getting along, Yoruichi didn't want to have to face Grimmjow's wrath later. It was time to change the subject.

"How do you feel?"

She grimaced. "Not great, but not terrible. My ribs have healed, and they were the worrying bit." Her eyes narrowed. "Grimm stormed out of the meeting early on, so I'm a little behind. What have I missed?"

Yoruichi frowned. "He told you about that?"

"That he ripped into Ulquiorra for basically doing his job?" Soi Fon sighed, running a hand back through her unbound hair. "Yeah, he told me. And he's going to be apologising, whether he wants to or not. He's already feeling pretty guilty about it."

The older woman nodded. "Yeah, he does get somewhat… well, enraged when it comes to you and injuries."

Soi Fon's hand came down to rest on a head of blue hair that was currently resting in her lap, snore-purring. As she delicately toyed with the strands, she replied, "You don't say. That wasn't what I asked you, though."

"Hmmm? Oh, the meeting. Right." Yoruichi thought back. "Got a bit tense, Grimm aside. General didn't like Kuukaku and I there."

Soi Fon snorted. "I heard that. He needs to get over it. Next?"

"We have a week's reprieve. Apparently, Kisuke's explosives pack a punch."

The man in question grinned. "That was quite a bang, you have to admit."

Yoruichi rolled her eyes. "Yes, you're marvellous. Anyway, that lot from the living world have placed themselves under my command, of all things, so now I'm in charge of the vizard, quincy, ryoka and the Shihoun family guard. It's been a blast, let me tell you."

Soi Fon winced. "That would not have gone down well."

She sighed. "It didn't, but we need allies too much for the General to quibble. Not that he didn't try. Jyuushiro stepped in before things got too ugly – he's good like that. And then Shunsui, with his impeccable timing, announced that he and Nanao are getting married in three days."

"Indeed", Kisuke broke in, "and I think the question needs to be asked – if we no longer have faith in the Head Captain, who, then, do we have faith in?"

Yoruichi blinked. "You're talking about succession, aren't you?"

He nodded. "We need to begin thinking of it. Our General has a very limited following, after all. Frankly, I think Jyuushiro might just be the answer."

Yoruichi continued to blink. "Wha - "

"He has a point", Soi Fon added. "Captain Ukitake has seniority, enough of a noble background to shut the four houses up, not enough of a noble background to prejudice him or set people's backs up, the ability to take command in a crisis, and the ability to handle people – he'd never have an almost mutiny on his hands, not with his manner and integrity."

"Whoa, time out." Yoruichi shook her head. "You're forgetting something crucial – Jyuushiro's ill. I mean, permanently."

"But when was the last time he had an attack?" Soi Fon returned. "Almost four years ago? He's been more active lately, what with training Nemu and everything that's been going on, and it hasn't taken any toll on him. If anything, he's looking better than he has for years."

"Ah", Kisuke sighed, "but now he something to live for!"

Soi Fon raised an eyebrow. "You've spent too much time with Captain Kyouraku."

He wagged a finger at her. "Doesn't mean it's not true. Nemu and Jyuushiro have been looking awfully cosy together lately."

Holding up her hands Yoruichi demanded quiet. "This is all beside the point – we're still working with the General and he'll name a successor. Hopefully." She sighed. "Dammit, I've got too much else to think about right now to start getting political and - "

She was interrupted by a snort from the figure resting on Soi Fon, as Grimmjow shifted in his sleep and resumed snore-purring, even louder.

"Kami", Yoruichi breathed, "how on earth do you sleep through that?"

Soi Fon shrugged. "At least it's rhythmic. Now, Lady Yoruichi, I have one favour to ask."

"Name it."

"Convince Unohana to let me out in time for Nanao's wedding. Grimm won't go without me for some reason – probably afraid of being attacked by tulle."

Yoruichi grinned. "You've been telling him disturbing wedding stories, haven't you?"

"It is a distinct possibility", Soi Fon replied. "Anyway, if I'm stuck here, he'll stay, and I'll never hear the end of how I made him miss an open bar reception."

"You just don't want to miss it yourself!"

Kisuke snorted. "Like that will stop you. Don't worry Soi Fon, we're on it."

The woman in question gave a satisfied smile. "Excellent. I leave it in your capable hands. And don't forget that signed statement!"

xXx

The next morning, as various clan elders railed abuse at her over breakfast for avoiding them in favour of her battle meetings and sickbed visits, Yoruichi maintained a beatific smile throughout.

After all, it wasn't her fault that was where her interests lay.

It was all circumstance.

xXx

**Bleargh. Brain fuzzy.**

**I like hearing from people and, even if I'm too damn busy to respond, know that I am hugging you through cyber-space whenever you review/favourite/alert (If I were you, I'd be disturbed by this statement. I'm a wee bit deranged). **

**R and R, y'all! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Sing it if you know the words…**

**Listening to: Florence and the Machine – 'Blinding'.**

Chapter Twelve

As she sits watching the last-minute wedding rehearsal go on around her, she can't help but feel just a tiny bit jealous.

Oh, don't get her wrong – she's certainly not jealous because of the groom. She does have something of a reputation as a man-eater and an all-round good time girl, but that's only because she's never felt the need to conceal her sexuality in her quest to be a warrior. Besides, a true warrior uses all available weaponry…

But no, Shunsui is not her type; Nanao is welcome to him, and the jealousy has a different home.

She's happy for Nanao, of course, ridiculously happy, in fact. Her straight-laced best friend from the academy has found her match, and Rangiku can see it in the smile Nanao tries to hide that rebelliously shines forth every time anything Shunsui-related happens. She's happy too, for Nemu, though she suspects Nemu would have no idea why if she were to share that piece of information. But Rangiku Matsumoto is no fool, and she can read the looks that Jyuushiro Ukitake is constantly shooting the young woman, those smiles laden with meaning, those innocent 'accidental' touches as he pulls out her chair and hands her to her seat. Nemu is clearly baffled, and yet Rangiku would swear that the occasional blush crosses her cheeks.

Not that she'll be interfering. She already raised that possibility with Nanao, only to have it vetoed in favour of 'sitting back and watching the show'. Still, it's not Jyuushiro she's jealous over, nor is it Stark, sitting back and clearly smiling to himself over _someone_ who's identity she'll try and get out of him later.

The problem with jealousy in this case is that it isn't directed at any one person – she just envies the chances at romance that all of them have. She envies them all their happiness, present and future.

And she knows, despite all her good will, that at the altar the next day she will be thinking 'It should have been me'.

Kami knows why – Gin wasn't the type for long-term commitment and now, with the grief mostly behind her and the flesh probably rotted from his treacherous bones, it is no longer even a part of the realms of possibility. Sure, she could try to track him down wherever he was reborn, but she doubts that's a solution. Gin loved her to the end – she knows this, but she is no Gin. Her love cannot survive with constant mistrust and betrayal, with fear and a knowledge that, one day, she will wake up and he will be gone once more. It would be pointless to try again, even with his burden of memory removed.

She _had _always tracked him down, though, or vice versa, but there was always a nagging part of her that suggested that this was not the way love was supposed to be. It was that same part that had her crying sometimes when they were together – she told him they were tears of happiness, and for a man so adept at lying and concealment, he bought it far too easily. She knew the truth though – they were tears for the inevitable end she could sense. She loved him fiercely, passionately and blindly, as only the young can, but she could see his death and their break before it even began.

It was unavoidable. If they had existed in a world of two, perhaps they might have survived, but outside forces always found a way in. Aizen had just been the last and most effective grab for the power that Gin was almost obsessed with – there had been so many more, each pulling him further away. By the time they faced one another on the sands of Hueco Mundo, her love was no longer any more than a powerful memory and a sense of nostalgia.

No – she's lying to herself again. She had loved him still, but there was a new presence in her heart, one that threatened to preclude everything she had ever felt for Gin.

Toushiro fucking Hitsugaya.

That's typically how she thinks of him now, usually after a few drinks and a considerable amount of wallowing, and it always makes her feel slightly guilty. After all, it isn't his fault that he's finally grown up and fulfilled all those promises of good looks with a vengeance. Similarly, he probably also didn't mean to become the most comforting presence in her life after the end of the war – Toushiro is gruff, uncompromising, and hardly the most emotionally attuned being she's ever met. He does seem to have knack for knowing, however, when she does and doesn't want to talk or be left alone. He tolerates her insomnia and habit of walking into the office at three in the morning – he's usually there himself and will simply nod at her and throw her some paperwork before they settle into an easy silence. She shouldn't feel this comfortable around him, she knows this – it was his blade that had brought down Gin, in front of her no less.

And yet, that had been a mercy. Gin's side had lost – there was nothing left for him but execution or imprisonment and Rangiku knew that the latter would kill him far more than the former. At least now he had freedom and a chance for a new life – it was easy to be philosophical about death when you understood how it worked as intimately as shinigami did.

In a way, though neither would ever admit it, the two men had much in common. Both of them pale-haired and blue-eyed, both of them following their own strict honour codes – though Toushiro's is one that adheres more closely to what most people would term 'honourable'. Both of them captains and prodigies. Both of them determined, both of them capable of ferocity under the right circumstances, both of them closed books as far as other people's attempts to read them go.

Both of them willing to kill for her.

There are differences, though, and it is these she clings to, telling herself that she isn't just making the same mistakes again.

Toushiro's colouring is far more intense than Gin's, his vivid eyes open to her inspection in a way that Gin's never were. He has far more self-control than Gin, who lusted for power and struggled to hide his temper under a mask of unsettling geniality. Instead, Toushiro seeks power only to protect, and unleashes his rare rages in the form of harmless frosts the form along the edges of his desk – his reactions are muted, except on the battlefield. Toushiro never lies – he's not particularly tactful, but after a life filled with deceit Rangiku is almost grateful for that raw honesty. Unlike Gin, who smiled all the time to hide how he felt, Toushiro's smiles are rare, and when they happen it's like a light being shed. She can see exactly what he's thinking, exactly what he's feeling – when he smiles there is no guile, no hidden aspect. He is simply open in his joy.

Which is probably why she can count on two hands the number of time she's seen his smile, but that doesn't bother her. The important thing is that it's there, and that he's let her see it.

Unfortunately, another important difference between the two men is that, while she always knew where she stood with Gin, Toushiro's heart is a mystery to her.

This may be a good thing – if she never makes a move now, she'll never know she's been rejected – but something else keeps playing on her mind. There was a moment, a fleeting instant on the battlefield in Hueco Mundo, as Gin lay dying in front of his opponent on the sand, and both men had turned to look at her. Maybe it was the blood loss, but for that one second, she could have sworn she saw that same mix of love and longing on Gin's face echoed on Toushiro's right beside him.

Of course, she wants to believe that. Desperately, in fact. She's tried her hardest not to give credence to this theory and stop herself building on false hope, but as hard as she tries to explain away that scene, it won't budge from her memory.

So she wonders. That's all she has time to do, though. The war never truly ended and, once again, they are back in the thick of things. She feels safer, though, this time around. Although they are far from having the numbers, at least this time no one will be gunning for her specifically (though she does wonder if anyone had really been gunning for her at all, seeing as they fight with swords).

And, for the most part, life is good; she has her friends, almost all of whom have found some sort of peace in this mess; her job which, while sometimes awkward when Toushiro almost catches her staring at him, challenges her and keeps her on her toes; sake in several key locations, most of which are in the office; a wardrobe the size of her bedroom; and a sense of joy that has always accompanied her through life.

It's only now at the post-rehearsal dinner, as she watches Shunsui steal a kiss from Nanao, Jyuushiro 'accidentally' brush his leg against Nemu's under the table for at least the fifth time tonight, and Stark grinning to himself in a manner that suggests there's a woman involved, that she feels jealous, that she wishes her love life was built on something more than a maybe.

Still, she muses to herself as she sips her white wine, maybe is better than nothing and, if she plays her cards right, she'll be getting a dance off Toushiro at the wedding.

If she's lucky, maybe even two.

xXx

**This is my garden salad chapter – quick, easy and ready in a few minutes. I rather like writing these two, and I do plan to explore their relationship further… Just not right now. Right now, vicioux has two stories to write, and only four months to finish her diploma and certificate, and find a real job.**

**Vicioux is busy and talking in the third person. Sigh.**

**So I'm currently on holidays, which is why I've been posting so regularly, and this is my warning – sadly, it won't last. Holidays end for me very soon, though I'll try to get as much written and posted as possible. **

**Anyhoodle, hope you like – R and R, y'all!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Must we rub it in? No, it isn't mine.**

**Yet.**

**Listening to: Elliott Smith – 'Angeles'.**

Chapter Thirteen

If you had told Nanao on her first day as Lieutenant of the Eighth that she would one day marry her captain, she would have laughed.

And then quite possibly killed you painfully. She wasn't a Kido Master for nothing.

Now, however, things had changed. Rather drastically, in fact, given that she was currently standing on the balcony of Kyouraku House with her two bridesmaids, waiting to descend into the garden and begin the ceremony.

Carefully, Nanao smoothed down the skirt of her delicately beaded strapless dress and watched as her two bridesmaids walked before her. In a moment, she too would take the step and start her journey. She was going to marry a man who despite his occasional annoying quirks (such as regularly avoiding the office), was the most genuine and affectionate soul she had ever met.

And he loved _her_.

Nanao had heard marriage described as the first day of the rest of your life. If that was the case, she thought as she started down the stairs, unable to stop smiling, then she couldn't wait to begin.

xXx

Coyote Stark was a man, or arrancar, who could always be relied upon for certain things – an air of debonair cool, a refusal to divulge his embarrassing first name, and an ability to laugh at his friends.

This last one was particularly enjoyable, he decided, as he watched Nemu and Jyuushiro, by the sides of the bride and groom respectively, play a game of 'how long can I stare at them until I almost get caught'.

Personally, he thought Nemu was winning.

The problem, however, was that this ought to be utterly absorbing. Oh, sure, he was paying attention to the wedding – a quiet simple affair outdoors with Shunsui's noble connections looking down their noses at the shinigami portion of the audience (Kenpachi in particular). Shunsui, for all his fidgets and panic that he'd be left at the altar, was clearly overjoyed, and Nanao about the same.

Despite all of this, the majority of his attention was currently on a chair about three rows back from the front and, more importantly, on the woman who occupied it.

He wasn't looking at her of course, oh no. But that didn't seem to matter – he could see her clearly in his mind, from the waves of bubblegum pink hair, to the rosy cheeks, to the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her inevitably mischievous grin.

She was Yachiru Kusajishi, 5'2" of pure, unadulterated mischief.

And she expected him to be her sidekick.

True, it was a bit of a come down from the role of Primera Espada, but he liked this position better, even if it would almost certainly mean another lecture conveyed through meaningful stares from his captain. There was little point to Byakuya Kuchiki's attempted interventions, though. Somehow, he never could manage to say no to her.

Given that she was also wearing a claret coloured dress that hugged her lithe figure far too nicely, he suspected that any attempt to say no to her today was already dead in the water.

xXx

It was a truly surreal moment, Tatsuki decided, when you were one of the only living people in the room.

She didn't feel comfortable here, and it wasn't only because she'd been forced to wear the only dress in her cupboard, a simple black frock with spaghetti straps and a hem that ended just long enough to keep the outfit suitable for a semi-formal occasion.

She didn't want to be here, either. She wanted to be back home, on campus, or even in her least favourite lecture. Because there, everything was normal. She could pretend that her best friend didn't have incredible god-like powers, she could pretend that her other friend wasn't a freaken death god, and she could pretend that her boyfriend wasn't equally a part of this place, with his unnatural strength and armour.

Tatsuki could pretend very well.

After everything had quieted down, and all her friends finally returned last year, she'd had a feeling it wouldn't last. They were caught between both places now. What could possibly hold them to a world where they were ordinary teenagers struggling in the adult world, when they were practically superheroes the second they crossed the divide between life and death?

And now war had broken out again.

She'd been dragged here because, as Sado had pointed out, she was a prime target – the friend of not only a shinigami captain, but also the last Quincy and Orihime Inoue. The entire Kurosaki family had shipped out too, though she'd discovered a few days ago that Ichigo wasn't the only captain in that clan. So here she was, protected in the world of the dead and bored out of her mind. Sure, she had some spiritual power, but that was nothing when compared to her friends. Her ability was in her fists and kicks, in how she dodged and countered an opponent. Swords just made her think people were overcompensating.

Essentially, though, she was useless here.

And Tatsuki hated being useless.

Sado had picked up on it, this she knew. He'd been even more silent and thoughtful lately. She had a feeling he was up to something – he'd insisted she attend this wedding, even though she knew no one. She was about to give up the ghost and try sneaking out, when someone approached her.

It was a woman, one even shorter and more petite than she was. She was pale, with a pointed chin and high cheekbones, and her black hair was pulled into a messy bun. In her black halter-neck dress, she looked like one more pretty woman in a room full of them, but three things stopped Tatsuki from dismissing her out of hand. The first was her snapping black eyes that seemed to have an air of command. The second was how she moved – almost as if she'd been recently injured. The third and most telling, however, was the edge of suppressed power that Tatsuki could sense. It was one thing, at least, that she was good at – she could sense reiatsu far better than even Uryuu. It was a handy skill, and one that told her this woman was not to be trifled with. As she reached the table, Tatsuki stood up, ready to help her. The woman waved her away.

"Don't worry. It's almost healed. It'll certainly teach me not to get skewered in future."

Tatsuki winced. "That last battle?"

She nodded. "My squad were the lucky bastards out on patrol – we copped the first wave. Not my idea of a good night out." As she sat down, she knocked Tatsuki's glass, where it sat on the edge of the table.

She didn't think. Reaching out, she caught the glass and righted it, before it spilled a drop. Abruptly, the stranger next to her started to chuckle.

"Well, I'll be damned. He wasn't kidding. Your reflexes are better than most shinigami."

Tatsuki raised an eyebrow. "Who wasn't kidding?"

"Your boyfriend", the woman replied, motioning to Sado as he stood talking to Ichigo and a rather interesting bunch of shinigami. "But I'm getting ahead of myself." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Captain Soi Fon of the Second Division, and I have something of a proposition for you."

"I don't do swords", Tatsuki broke in, "and my spiritual pressure is nothing to write to Karakura about, I assure you." Best to end any false expectations early.

The captain shrugged. "Reiatsu isn't everything, and you've got enough to become a competent shinigami in most squads. In my squad, on the other hand…" She started to smile. "We specialise in stealth and hand to hand combat. I'm interested in working with anyone who can consistently beat up Ichigo Kurosaki."

Stealth Tatsuki could take or leave, but a chance to use her judo skills…

"It isn't that hard. He telegraphs punches like you wouldn't believe", Tatsuki replied, sipping her drink and trying not to grin too broadly.

The captain laughed shaking her head. "I think we're going to work together just fine."

Tatsuki caught Sado's eye across the room and, in response to his meaningful look, gave him a thumbs up.

Slowly, he started to smile.

xXx

Every once in a while, Isshin Kurosaki would stop running around with a video camera grinning like an idiot.

He would halt, let the smile slide off his face, and stare pensively.

He watched his son, who now wore a captain's haori not unlike his own, as he talked and laughed with his friends. He watched his younger daughter, by only three minutes, chat to her friends from the Urahara Shoten and discuss healing techniques. He watched his older daughter scowl as yet another misguided fool attempted to chat her up.

He watched the people he loved, and he prayed he wouldn't lose them.

xXx

Toushiro Hitsugaya was not a coward.

Usually.

When faced with his date and lieutenant, however, occasionally he had to wonder.

Rangiku Matsumoto was universally considered to be the most beautiful woman in this world, and quite possibly any other. She was witty, gregarious, engaging and so very out of his league that it almost hurt. The only reason he was even here with her was because she needed a date and didn't want to take 'some loser who would spend most of the night trying to feel her up' (her words, not his). She hid his paperwork until he agreed – not that it was a struggle for him – and now he got to repent at leisure.

Being Rangiku's date meant spending the night glaring at other men. A lot. It meant wishing she didn't see you purely as a friend, or captain or, worse, the man who killed her former lover turned traitor. Frankly, Toushiro was just glad they were still speaking.

Still, it'd be nice to be more than a back up date.

Although, now that he thought about it, Rangiku had plenty of male friends happy to escort her without 'getting handsy' (another of her expressions). Ideally, she could have taken Renji, who was dateless, entertaining and gay – the perfect trifecta. In a way, he thought to himself with more than a hint of desperation, it was flattering to have been selected first.

Toushiro fought the urge to roll his eyes and accepted that, if it meant getting to dance and spend time with Rangiku, there was not a lot he wouldn't do.

She didn't need to know that, though.

xXx

Rose was bored.

It was a bit of an occupational hazard with him. As happy as he was to see Shunsui settling down and all, he hadn't come back to the Seireitei to socialise and make small talk with the people who originally drove him out. He was here to fight, and that was all – he attended this wedding out of politeness and nostalgia, but had regretted it as soon as he arrived.

He didn't belong here, not anymore.

Which is why he was currently playing a game called, 'who's having an even lamer time here than I am?'

Childish, but what's a Vizard to do?

He thought he'd have an easy candidate in Lisa, but she was actually happy to see Shunsui and Nanao again, so that's out. Shinji wasn't exactly happy, but he had been chatting away with Hachi and Orihime, and that was enough to get him over the line. Hiyori was still pissed off that she was even there in the first place, but he suspected that Hiyori actually thrived off her anger, so that shouldn't count.

Nope, there was only one clear candidate there. She was a young woman, probably still in her teens. Human. Pretty, if she wasn't scowling all the time. She seemed to have the members of the Eleventh in awe of her and, judging from the bruises some of them sported, he was a little impressed himself.

She was far too young for him, of course, but she looked familiar and what the hell? He could introduce himself, couldn't he?

No harm in that, and he might even help the Eleventh pick up some pointers.

Casually, he sidled over. She gave him a look, and then rolled her eyes. "Seriously? I turn sixteen in two weeks. How much of an age gap is that? One century? Two? Three?"

"A millennia and a bit", he admitted shamefacedly. "It was not my intention to try anything, I assure you. I simply thought we could both use some company as you seemed to be enjoying yourself almost as much as I was."

"But I wasn – oh." She gave him another look, and then shrugged. "Well, sit down then. Try anything, though, and my father and brother will kill you."

He snorted. "I was once a celebrated captain of the Gotei Thirteen. I think I can hold my own."

"My name is Karin Kurosaki", she replied with a smirk.

"Ah. Kurosaki." Perhaps he had been a little hasty with that statement about holding his own. "Touché."

Karin laughed at that, shaking her head. "So, why does this suck for you?"

"Vizard", he replied blithely, pointing to himself.

"Thought so." She frowned. "You feel a little like Ichi-nii does. Well, more like him than shinigami do."

"So", he returned, "what about you?"

It was her turn to snort. "You got an hour?"

He pulled up a chair and sat down. She stared at him in disbelief, only to have him shrug in response. "I've got nothing better to do. I though we'd established that."

Rolling her eyes, she muttered. "Fine. It's your… unlife… thing. But you were warned…"

xXx

Hiyori was still pissed at him.

Shinji had thought that things would improve once she was on board and willing to go with them to the Seireitei, but she'd been crankier and harder to deal with than ever.

Or, rather, she'd been crankier and harder to deal with the second he became involved in anything.

It was getting decidedly old. If Hiyori wasn't avoiding him, she was treating him like the events of the last hundred years were all his fault. Sure, he was willing to shoulder a fair amount of the blame – Aizen had been his lieutenant – but it was starting to border on the ridiculous.

Still, Shinji comforted himself with the knowledge that she couldn't hate him forever. Their tiffs had been legendary, but they had always blown over eventually.

As he looked across the room to spy her glaring at him – again – he couldn't help but hope that 'eventually' came sooner rather than later.

xXx

It was toward the end of the night that Lisa was accosted by something cute and very, very drunk.

"Well", he slurred, taking in her outfit (she hadn't bothered to dress up), "Hell-o, sailor!"

She raised an eyebrow, prepared to punch him in the mouth – because she certainly had never heard _that_ one before – only to stop, her eyes wide.

She'd seen this man from a distance. He was one of the newer captains; she didn't remember the name. She probably would still have smacked him one if only for the poor choice of pickup line, but the tattoo on his face stopped her in her tracks.

He had the same tattoo as Kensei.

Now she remembered. Shuuhei Hisagi. He'd been Kensei's shadow, back when Kensei had been a captain, and now he was one in his own right.

Lisa and Kensei hadn't always seen eye to eye – he was far too serious and prudish to be entirely comfortable around her. But they'd gotten along as best they could. It had broken Lisa's heart a little to see Kensei fall apart after Mashiro's death…

Well, this one wasn't Kensei. He was much prettier, for a start, though the scars across his face stopped him from being too pretty. He was also drunk off his ass and half leaning on her, trying to grope her. She scanned her surrounds in the hope of finding assistance, and found Renji Abarai looking amused.

Her eyes narrowed. "How drunk is he?"

Renji grinned. "Considerably, given he's only had a couple of beers. He likes to think he can hold it but…" He trailed off, gesturing to the man who was now poking himself in the nose and chuckling.

Lisa fought the urge to roll her eyes and lost. "Very well. I - " She stopped abruptly and grabbed the hand that had been about to slap her behind. "Is he always this amorous?"

Renji winced. "Not even a little. He'll probably be horrified if you recount this to him tomorrow, though he ain't likely to remember on his own."

This time the slap made contact and a squeeze accompanied it. Before Lisa could stop herself, she had judo kicked him to the floor and he was out cold. "Huh." She paused, frowning as she prodded him with her toe. There was no response. "Oops."

Renji immediately backed away. "Whoa. I'm not taking care of that. I have plans for the rest of the night."

"Getting laid isn't a plan", Lisa muttered under her breath, before mentally conceding that it was still more plan than she had. She sighed as she stared down at Shuuhei, who was starting to snore lightly. "I suppose you're going to be left to my tender mercies." She bent down to wrap an arm around his waist, before clumsily hauling him up.

"And I feel it's only fair to warn you now - they're not very tender."

xXx

Isane stared out over the terrain, hand on her zanpakuto.

She'd opted out of the reception in the end. Someone had to keep watch and she'd always been the responsible one.

Still, she would have preferred a chance to let her hair down. She'd always been the older sister, the dignified lieutenant and now here she was, stuck on duty with her squad out in the middle of nowhere – and in wartime to boot – when she could have been partying with her friends.

At least she could tell herself that she was doing the right thing, though it was hardly the most comforting thought and –

Out in the dark, something moved.

Her eyes narrowed, she scanned the ground in front of her, eyes widening as confirmation hit.

_Not now. Not like this. We're not ready._

Turning on her heel, she began to run back to her squad, praying she wouldn't be too late.

xXx

**I love holidays – they give me the chance to actually put fingers to keyboard (it's the new 'pen to paper', really).**

**Let me know what you think.**

**Cheers! **


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: You know the words – now let's sing it together!**

**Yeah. Not mine.**

**Listening to: Cat Power – 'Maybe Not'.**

Chapter Fourteen

It took Captain Shuuhei Hisagi of the Ninth Division approximately four and a half minutes to determine that this was no ordinary hangover.

Oh, the headache was there, that he was very sure of, but there was no nausea, no general feeling of seediness and, now that he thought about it (and Kami, did that hurt), his headache felt like it was specific only to a certain point on his head. Tentatively, he brought one hand up to gaze his forehead, only to wince in pain as his fingers found a patch of skin that was almost undoubtedly a fetching shade of purple-black.

How the hell –

"Yeah, that one's my fault. Sorry."

He sat up so fast he accidentally bumped his head against the headboard of the bed he was currently in, only to swear loudly when he realised that he had managed to find the location of a _second_ bruise, in a rather painful manner.

The same voice, sounding more than a little rueful, added, "And that's from where you hit the floor. Again, probably my fault, though gravity and momentum share blame."

It was then that he got a good look at his companion. She had that same stern elegance to her that he had thought Nanao Ise trademarked long ago, but there was a current of mingled cynicism and mischief to her that gave her eyes – an odd mix of blue, grey and green – an additional spark he decided he quite liked. She wore a teal and white uniform, somewhere between schoolgirl and sailor, with black-framed glasses sitting on the bridge of her straight and neat nose. Her dark hair was pulled back in two tight braids and, in one of her slender pale hands, she held a book that, he noticed as his eyes widened, was definitely not suitable for anyone under the legal age and possibly quite a few over it. Most of all, however, she was familiar…

Which was when he realised two things – one, that the bed he was currently lying in was in the Fourth, which meant he was a patient and two, that the woman sitting by his side was none other than Lisa Yadomaru, ex-Lieutenant of the Eighth and current Vizard and tentative ally.

Much like his idol had been.

Shuuhei didn't know why, of the five Vizard who had returned, Kensei was not of their number, but he suspected that now wasn't the time to ask. He had more pressing concerns and, chief among them –

"What am I doing here?"

She sighed, laying the book aside and adjusting her glasses before speaking. "Well, when you took me home last night, we got a little rough - "

"WHAT?" He jaw dropped as he stared at her, aghast. Admittedly, had he been sober enough to recall it, he probably wouldn't have minded taking an attractive woman to his bed last night, even if it had resulted in a hospital visit. Still, he wasn't the sort of guy to drunkenly sleep with people, and he was about to start reassuring her of this fact, when she began to chuckle to herself.

Shaking her head, she finally managed to speak, "You really _are_ an easy mark. I had a feeling you would be."

"So we didn't…" Shuuhei wasn't sure if he was pleased or disappointed. His eyes narrowed. "Well, ha bloody ha. How about the real story?"

Her lips twitched. "Very well, but I doubt you'll like it much better. What do you remember about last night?"

The answer, unfortunately, was very short. "Not much. The wedding was lovely, and the reception had an open bar." He wished he had a little more to go on, but one conclusion was very clear. "I was drunk, wasn't I?"

"Plastered", came the far too amused reply. "And from what I gathered, it's a fairly regular occurrence."

He winced again. "Look, when I'm drunk I'm a very, very different person. So I'm sorry for whatever I said or did. I have no doubt it was appalling. I'll make it up to you as soon as I'm out of here."

"You groped me", Lisa admitted. "Repeatedly. But don't worry – you've already paid for it."

He braced himself. "How?"

"Well", Lisa began, looking more than a little guilty, "I have a certain reflex that comes into play when anyone grabs my behind."

Shuuhei frowned. A reflex? That didn't sound so terrible. "What reflex?"

"A judo kick to the head."

Things were starting to make a lot of sense. "And the one behind?"

"Where you hit the floor."

"Ah." Shuuhei considered this. "Just let me get things straight – I got drunk, groped you and then got beaten up." He paused. "I got beaten up by a girl… You know what, I think I actually prefer the first story."

"Of course you do", she replied, her smile becoming bittersweet as she continued to look at him. Abruptly, she shook her head and made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. "Look, I'm not supposed to tell you this yet, but I think you're better off knowing. Some rather nasty shit went down last night."

Shuuhei groaned. "Oh Kami, what else did I do? Impromptu party striptease? Off key serenade? Emasculate myself further? You can tell me – I've been there, done that, and - "

He trailed off. There was something in her face, a mixture of sadness and gravity that had chills running down his spine. Regaining control of his voice, he asked hoarsely, "What happened?"

She didn't mince words. "Invading force. An impressive one, too. We held them off, but not without serious losses."

She watched the blood drain from his face as he stared down at his hands, and wished there was an easier way to break the news. Suddenly, his eyes met hers again, those black irises steely as though he was preparing himself.

"I realise you're a relative stranger here, but I need to know – Lieutenants Izuru, Hinamori and Matsumoto, as well as Captain Abarai – have you heard anything about them?"

"I made it my business to find out from Retsu", she replied softly, "I figured you'd want to know, and she thought those names would be the first off the list. They're all fine; only minor cuts and bruises. Lieutenant Matsumoto was part of the backup force here, so she wasn't even involved." She smiled. "Your friends, I take it?"

He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Yeah. The best. Well, that's something at least. What about my squad?"

Silence greeted this. His black eyes turned steely again, and Lisa couldn't help but remind herself that here was a Captain of the Gotei Thirteen, a man who had achieved Bankai and was more than a match for her.

_And damn fine to look at into the bargain. _

_Ugh. This is not the time._

"What about my squad, Yadomaru?"

"Your lieutenant is dead." There was no easy way to say it, and she knew from experience that trying to find one would just make it worse.

He was very still. If it weren't for the tautness of his jaw and the look in his eyes, Lisa might have thought he was in a trance. Of course, any and all theories related to trances quickly disappeared when he rose from his bed, only to stride toward to wall and punch a hole through it, silent all the while.

Lisa jumped as the plaster cracked, rising from her seat and grabbing hold of his arm before he could inflict more damage. He shook her off easily, his eyes blazing. "You're telling me that I lay here in a drunken stupor while my squad was out on the front line? My lieutenant is dead!"

It was like and yet unlike. She had faced down Kensei after Mashiro's death in a similar manner. Circumstances were different, the people were different, but there were too many similarities for her to ignore. Without realising it, she spoke almost the same lines. "You can't blame yourself for this! You had no way of knowing what was to come, and you certainly weren't the only captain held back for that reason. The rest of the Ninth were part of the back up force, they didn't even see combat. Your lieutenant chose to go out himself and face down a vasto lorde. You know how hopeless that was – it took an ex-captain to bring it down, a newly minted lieutenant without Bankai hadn't a chance. You cannot blame yourself for other people's stupidity! Now is the worst time for you to wallow in self pity – people need you!"

He stared at her stonily. "That does not change the fact the my squad, the greenest and most under-staffed squad in the Gotei Thirteen, is now without a lieutenant, and the burden falls to me to ensure we do not suffer for it. It does not change the fact that, had I been there, Sentaro could possibly still be alive."

"Maybe", she shot back, "but would _you_ be? You're needed in this fight, whether - "

He held up a hand, silencing her as she glared at him mutinously. Unfortunately, it appeared that a stubborn refusal to listen to her was something he and Kensei had in common.

"You said 'losses'. Who else?"

She took a deep breath. "The Captain-Commander sacrificed himself last night to take out the Zero Espada."

Lisa could have sworn the jaw got tighter. "I need to go, then. My squad needs me."

"Oh for - " Well, then, if he wouldn't listen to advice, he could listen to a story, couldn't he?

"Do you know what happened to Kensei?"

He stopped, halfway out the door, and turned reluctantly to face her. She didn't wait for his reply. "He doesn't speak anymore – did you know that? Doesn't go out, doesn't even try to live normally. He just sits in his apartment, letting guilt eat him alive - "

"I can see the parallels, thank you", Shuuhei broke in, his voice coming through obviously gritted teeth.

"I'm not done yet", she snapped back. She could get pissed off too, if that was what he was after. "It's for nothing. Mashiro chose to attack Ichimaru alone. The only thing that would have happened if Kensei had been there is he would have been killed too – Ichimaru was a slippery bastard and not someone you'd want to face alone."

"I remember Ichimaru." He still didn't sound anywhere near like relenting.

"I'm so glad." Her tone was biting sarcastic. "Look, all I'm saying is that you can let guilt over something you couldn't control eat you up until you're utterly useless to anyone who might need you, or you can accept that things have already happened and nothing you could or can do will change that. You can move on and fight back."

She raised her chin as she looked at him, a gesture of challenge and defiance. "I know which path is the more honourable."

"You think", he replied, his voice deadly and quiet, "I know nothing of honour? My captain, who I admired almost as much as… anyway, my captain preached the importance of justice and honour and other noble crap endlessly. Within a few years, he'd betrayed the Seireitei, killed his best friend and was dead by my hand. What I know about honour as more than you pick up from books – I've learnt about honour by seeing it's reverse. So don't you go telling me about honour like it's something new to me."

"Look", she began, attempting a conciliating tone, "that wasn't what I meant and - "

"I've heard enough", he snapped, picking up his zanpakuto where it stood by the door, and strapping it to his waist. "And now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Yadomaru - "

"Lisa."

"Miss Yadomaru. My squad needs me."

With that, he walked out the door, leaving Lisa furious, her fists balled by her sides, and determined to give him something to really be sorry for.

_Miss_ _Yadomaru_, her ass.

xXx

Hours later, she was sitting on an old favourite rooftop with Rose, still unable to get that encounter out of her head.

Lisa was not the woman who stayed mad for long. When she held a grudge, she really held a grudge, but in this case… well, she couldn't really absolve herself from everything that had gone wrong in that conversation. As Rose stirred beside her, she looked out at her favourite view of the Seireitei's skyline and sighed. Running a hand through her hair, loosed to appreciate the breeze, she murmured to herself, "I've missed this."

Beside her, Rose chuckled to himself. "I know _you_ have."

Her eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" Her ego was feeling a little delicate since she had told Rose of her morning and he'd pointed out at length just how she was at fault. Apparently there was such a thing as _too soon._

"Nothing bad", he assured her. "It's just that you've always had deeper ties here than the rest of us. Shunsui, Nanao… and, not to mention, that you loved being a lieutenant and being in the thick of things. It was almost unhealthy."

She snorted. "No crime to love your job."

He shrugged. "I suppose. But then, you always preferred it here. You try to hide it and you're good with secrets, but this one's far too big and far too obvious. Oh, there were things you liked about the living world all right, but here is where you've always belonged. I mean, me? I don't exactly have a lot of positive associations and I love it in the Living World. No orders to follow, so much variety…"

"Oh." She looked down at her feet. "It's also not a crime to prefer having a purpose."

"I never said it was." He gave her a long look. "Would you come back?"

For years, the obvious answer had been 'no' - completely and unequivocally. But now, with the traitors gone, herself exonerated and the commander who had thrown them out, dead…

"I don't know. Maybe, if they asked nicely." She frowned, surprised as how good that idea actually sounded. "I wouldn't take a captaincy, though. I _liked _being second in command, and bouncing ideas off a superior without all of that extra responsibility. It's a moot point anyway", she finished, "Nanao would kill me if I tried to go back to the Eighth, and I wouldn't blame her."

He laughed at that one, shaking his head and letting gold hair fly. "Fair enough. Still, the Eighth aren't the only squad with the position of lieutenant. Weren't you just telling me that one of the newest captains of the Gotei Thirteen has neither a mentor captain or experienced lieutenant to help him?"

Lisa froze. "You can't seriously be thinking of - "

"Excuse me?"

She'd never even sensed him coming, that much was obvious. Shuuhei had had a good long think about things this morning, and had been left with the conclusion that he owed someone an apology and, as the members of his squad had repeatedly told him, it wasn't any of them.

Her companion stood up, gave him a nod and then whispered something to Lisa that made her scowl just as she turned to face him. All in all, it didn't look good. She, on the other hand, looked a lot better than she had this morning, when she was half-asleep and reeling from the losses. She looked refreshed and younger, almost less stern, with her dark hair loose, playing on the breeze and softening the sharpness of her high cheekbones and pointed chin.

She got up, and walked over to stand opposite him, looking up into his face. For the first time, he realised how slight she was, how petite she appeared next to him. She'd seemed so much larger when she was facing him down.

Which brought him to why he was here. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he began, "Look, about this morning - "

"We were both out of line, just in different ways", she broke in, her expression softening. "For my part, I'm sorry. It was a little soon to spring that on you. I just didn't want you to end up like - "

"Like Captain Muguruma", Shuuhei finished with a frown. "Am I really that much like him?"

She shrugged. "Not really. You've some of his no nonsense attitude, but from what I've heard, you actually know how to have fun. That, and you're much prettier."

He blushed furious, sputtering gibberish as she smirked. "And you really are an easy mark. I haven't been able to make Kensei blush like that for decades."

"Comforting", muttered Shuuhei. "Real comforting."

Lisa's lips twitched into a small smile. "I try."

He rolled his eyes and gazed out at the scenery. "It's nice up here." With a sigh, he ran a hand through his messy dark hair distractedly. "I'd like to stay, but I've got to organise a funeral."

Kami only knew how it happened, but Lisa found herself asking, "Would you like some help?"

Shuuhei stared at her in disbelief. "Look, not that I'm not grateful, but there's a million different protocols to be followed in this situation - "

"And I was a lieutenant for decades. I know them all", she replied wryly. "Central 46 won't have changed a thing."

She was right. "You sure?"

Lisa was staring out at the horizon, the oddest expression on her face. For a second, Shuuhei thought she'd turn back to him and just laugh in his face, but instead, she gave him a small smile.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

As they hopped off the roof and began walking, she asked him, "What was your lieutenant like?"

"Sentaro?" Shuuhei exhaled in a huff. "I barely knew him. As far as I knew, he was just an over-zealous, over-confident moron." He smiled sadly. "But he was an over-zealous, over-confident moron in my squad and under my protection." He stopped in the street, finally ready to ask the question he'd wanted to put to her since this morning.

"Did you ever think about what would have happened if you'd been there with Mashiro?"

Lisa closed her eyes. "I thought of nothing else for months. But I knew it would have changed nothing, and I could see first hand what would happen to me if I let it keep preying on my mind."

"Does it get any easier?"

Her eyes opened again, a mercurial mix of colours. Teal, he decided, and definitely bittersweet.

"It does", she replied softly. "It takes a while, but it will happen."

He nodded to himself for a while in silence, before flashing her a quick half-smile. "Well, that's something at least."

As they continued to walk down the street, one thought continually stayed in Lisa's mind.

_Dammit, Rose._

_Why do you always have to be right about me?_

xXx

**This pairing makes sense to me, and I'm not entirely sure why. Let me know any thoughts y'all may have on the matter.**

**Cheers! **


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: It's not mine, and now you're just rubbing it in. **

**Listening to: Ryan Adams – 'Rock N Roll'.**

Chapter Fifteen

There weren't a lot of things that Orihime Inoue openly disliked.

She'd always been able to make the best of things, no matter what the circumstances. She had survived her parents' abuse and neglect, her hollowfied brother's attempt to kill her, two years of imprisonment under Sousuke Aizen's rule and then dealing with the fallout that came from walking back into a world where everyone thought she was dead – it was safe to say she was fairly resilient. But where a lesser woman might have caved under the pressure and just cried without stopping, Orihime thrived, taking what joy she could and building her life around it.

The one thing, however, that she did really dislike, was feeling like she could do more.

It was something she and Tatsuki had in common and she suspected that, had she been the one forced to remain behind in the living world during the events of the last three years, she would have gone mad. Not Tatsuki, though – she had always been the stronger one when it counted, Orihime's impressive powers aside.

It was those same powers that were the problem. Orihime healed the wounded every night and there were many, whether they had battled with their arrancar foes or not. War meant that there were no easy nights, a lesson she had learned when all of this started. Make no mistake – she was grateful to be able to do what she could, her near miraculous healing becoming a by word in the Seireitei.

Still, she knew she was capable of more.

She had such incredible power at her disposal, and was kept from using it by her fear and her own hatred of violence. She knew she could turn the tide of so many fights, if she could only muster up the courage to kill.

But the very thought terrified her.

Her time in Hueco Mundo had changed her. It matured her in so many ways but, most of all, it taught her that enemies could so easily become allies, that allies could so easily become enemies, and that once someone was dead, you couldn't take it back – not even with her skills. She understood the grey areas of human nature now, and she couldn't bear to make snap judgements and pick alliances.

She certainly didn't think she had a right to decide who lived and who died.

At the same time, though, she longed to be able to help her friends, the people she loved. She wanted to be out there on the front line, shielding people at the very least. She wanted to confront death, to be brave enough to face taking a life and living with herself afterward, the way all of her friends did. She wanted to protect, like Ichigo or, better yet, like Uryuu. Uryuu never doubted in himself, never second-guessed his limits, never shied away from his actions. Uryuu was a killer by necessity, not nature, and he ensured that the death he gave to his enemies was quick and clean, if not relatively painless. He was a constant she could always count on, from his calm assurance to the drolly sarcastic comments that were typically aimed at Ichigo, and she liked that about him. He was so sure of who he was and what he was doing – Orihime would have loved to feel that way.

Instead, she saw and felt things too clearly, more so, even, than when she had first been introduced to this world. Her imprisonment in Las Noches had drained many of her emotional responses away from her, and now she was re-learning her feelings, all of them stronger for lack of use. One thing that had disappeared entirely, never to return, were her feelings for Ichigo. As much as she still cared for him and her arrancar rescuers and was glad to count them among her friends, she couldn't stand to have that cold and, well, _hollow_ darkness in the spiritual power of someone she was going to give her heart to. She could not forget two years steeped in that feeling, anymore than she could go back to the carefree girl she was before. Ichigo was with Rukia now, and she was glad for both of them.

Orihime knew that she was different. She hadn't quite fitted into her old life back in Karakura, all exclamations over her sudden reappearance aside, and while her friends had changed enough to keep up with her, she knew that occasionally they watched her, waiting for reactions that belonged to another girl, in what felt like another life. That was the other thing she liked about Uryuu – he had always accepted her, changed though she was, and had never looked back. He was always there to back her up, to give her the reassurance she needed when she felt more than usually helpless. He smiled almost as rarely as Ichigo did, but his dry quips and the way his lips twitched into something that was _almost_ a smile never failed to make her laugh when she needed it.

But he wasn't with her now, as she tentatively knocked on Captain Retsu Unohana's door, hoping for an audience with the leader of the squad of healers she was stationed with. She was fairly sure of a positive reception – Orihime and her fellow ryoka had been described as a godsend of late (though this was mostly in reference to herself and Yuzu – Karin had not demonstrated any gift for healing, other than a certain ability to subdue members of the Eleventh with only a look). Still, she wasn't sure how the following conversation would go. While she enjoyed her work with the healers, she wanted to do more, to –

The door swung partially open, as Captain Unohana's musical voice invited her to come in. With a deep breath, and a self-conscious smoothing down of her skirt, Orihime took a moment to mentally run through her arguments, before slipping through the doorway, walking forward to stand in front of the older woman's desk.

Retsu Unohana was a woman who exuded an aura of quiet confidence, much like Uryuu's, now that Orihime considered it, that never failed to make her feel safe and comforted. The woman herself looked as lovely as ever, despite exhaustion and grief clear in her face, marking themselves in shadows around her eyes, in high cheekbones thrown into relief by strain and in long dark hair escaping the braid that held it back. They were all struggling with those feelings in the wake of their last fight, and the loss of their leader. The Gotei Thirteen were about to launch their own attack in Hueco Mundo, and the day had been a rushed blur of preparations for the inevitable body count that would find its way here tomorrow. Captain Unohana was in the midst of rapidly signing papers and attempting to eat a sandwich that looked as though it had seen better days, her zanpakuto propped up against the chair she sat on. She nodded to Orihime as the younger woman sat down opposite her, and flashed her a small smile as she pointed out, "If you're here in the hopes of requisitioning more supplies, I have already tried. We are buying them as fast as we use them, and our stockists in the Rukongai are in almost as bad a shape as we are – I suspect that we will have to make do with what we currently have, until we can gauge the effect of the coming assault."

Orihime smiled awkwardly in return and shook her head. "Uh, no Captain, that wasn't it. It's just - " She broke off, unsure of how to continue, as Retsu put down her papers and began to watch her intently, those gentle blue eyes giving away nothing.

"Go on, Orihime. I can assure you, you have my full attention."

"I feel useless", the girl blurted out, only to blush, horror-struck. "I don't mean that healing isn't important! I know it is! And it isn't that I don't like doing it either – I like working with Isane and Yuzu and Karin and you. I just thought, seeing as I can do the things I can, that maybe I was better off going with the squads into Hueco Mundo for the attack. I mean, I could…" There lay the problem. Orihime didn't know exactly what she could do, but she'd been told often enough that her powers were god-like. "I should be able to do something more", she finished lamely, willing the woman in front of her to understand. "I just feel like I'm not doing everything I can."

Retsu paused, her deep blue eyes considering. Abruptly, she picked up her zanpakuto and placed it on the desk between them, Orihime's attention immediately going to the blade.

With a sigh, the shinigami captain began, "Orihime, you are not the first person to struggle with a weapon or ability that encompasses both a destructive and creative impulse. Minazuki here is much the same – it is only my Shikai that heals. My Bankai, or so I have been told by opponents when sparring, is devastating." She placed the blade back by her side, shaking her head. "I am a soldier first and foremost. I will admit, it takes much less effort to use this blade to kill, rather than heal, and I could probably make a good deal of difference on the front line, if I were to choose that path. There is, however, a reason I do not."

"Do you know how many true healers there are in the Fourth Division?"

Orihime shook her head, her curiousity piqued.

"Twenty-three", Retsu replied softly. "Less than ten percent of our squad have healing zanpakuto. The remainder have learnt healing kido and the necessary techniques to work here. True healers are rare, rarer than almost any other ability in the Seireitei. While I can make a difference in either situation, I am needed here, far more than I am out there."

"Your situation, on the other hand, is a little different. Orihime, you are not a soldier. You are a young woman who has already seen far more than her share of violence, fighting in a war that, by rights, is not even yours to fight in. I am not disputing your right to be here", she added quickly, when Orihime opened her mouth to argue, "I am simply stating that this is not a battle between humans, the likes of which are common in your world. You are under no obligation to do anything for us – on the contrary, given your efforts and trials in the last war, we already owe you a great debt. But to involve yourself in this…" She trailed off, and sighed. "Orihime, it is common knowledge that you cannot stand to inflict pain on people. Just what do you imagine you will achieve on the battlefield?"

Orihime stared down at her hands, wishing she knew. "I don't like it", she replied quietly, "but I have the power to do it. I just think that, if it's going to save my friends, I should be able to use my abilities to fight back."

"There are more ways to fight back than with mere weapons", Retsu replied softly, her eyes kind, "and I would not see you force yourself to do things you cannot live with. Nor would any of your friends, if you asked them."

"I guess", Orihime responded eventually, staring at the hands folded in her lap. "I'm just sick of being the one they always have to protect. They've all always been so strong and reckless and doing these amazing things that I couldn't even dream of doing, and I just figured that if I had this power everyone thinks is so amazing, I should be able to use it to stop people being hurt." She shook her head, a bitter laugh coming to her lips. "It feels like such a waste to have this gift and not be able to do heroic things and save people like everyone else."

Captain Unohana gave her a speculative look, before her expression relaxed into a quick smile. "Just think about what I have said, please. Now, I would recommend a quick break outside before you tour the wards. I want you to talk to some of the patients, rather than simply taking their vitals – morale in the ward during times like these is never good, and they could use some of your kindness. Though, from what I've heard, you tend to do this anyway. Apparently, you've promised them cupcakes."

It was hard not to warm to the compliment, even if she had just been shot down. Giving the captain a quick smile, Orihime thanked her and walked out, resolving to get Captain Unohana a more edible looking sandwich before she took any such break.

xXx

As Uryuu Ishida walked down the street outside the Fourth Division, he called himself several types of fool.

He did this every day and, as much as he told himself that he was on his way to somewhere specific and this was the most efficient path, that didn't change the fact that he always came by here at the same time of day – when Orihime was on her break.

Not for the first time, he cursed himself for having fallen for a woman who was probably still hung up on one of his closest friends. He didn't know if she'd noticed Ichigo and Rukia's new bond, but he suspected she would be devastated and he would be the shoulder to cry on. Again.

It was, he decided, what you got for being a nice guy.

Still, at least he was the shoulder she chose.

Kami, that was just depressing to contemplate.

It was in this mood that Uryuu found Orihime, sitting on a bench and looking morose in a way he hadn't seen her look since her rescue from Hueco Mundo. One thing was clear – the news _had_ reached her. Without thinking, he walked up to her and said the first thing that came to his head.

"Kurosaki is an idiot."

She blinked and looked up at him, before bursting into giggles. "That's hardly a new idea, coming from you. What'd he do this time?"

Well, that certainly hadn't been the response he'd expected. "I – uh – Kuchiki-san and - "

She nodded in understanding and he relaxed. At least someone got what he was saying. She continued, "I know. It was about time. I don't know how Rukia has kept quiet all these years."

Uryuu fought the urge to just let his jaw drop. Orihime seemed completely nonchalant about the whole thing. Was it possible – no, she'd been miserable before he'd arrived. That needed clarifying, and quickly.

"So, why were you…"

Her face fell as she realised what he was asking, and she shook her head, light glittering off the jewelled pins in her hair. "I'm useless here, aren't I? I would have almost been better off staying at home."

He sat down on the bench beside her, his mind racing as he adjusted his glasses. "Why do you say that?"

She shrugged. "Everyone always made such a big deal about what I could do. I'm supposed to be powerful, but I can't do anything to stop what's happening and people are getting hurt. It's terrible in there. People are being dropped off faster than I can heal them, and there's so much blood. If I have to smell cero burns again, I think I'll throw up, and so many people are barely recognisable when they get to me. And now, with the Captain-Commander gone… I just feel helpless – everyone's always had to rush to protect me, and I want to be able to protect them for once. I want to fight back, but no one seems to think I can do it."

Uryuu considered her, his blue eyes appraising behind silver frames. "Do you really want to fight back? Even knowing that there would be blood on your hands, and that you would have to use your power to kill?"

She shifted awkwardly. "I could do it." Her voice was reluctant.

"I'm not disagreeing with that. I'm not about to argue against your wish to keep us safe, either", Uryuu continued, "I just don't think you really want to take part in violence."

"I – well, no, but how else can I change things? I'm tired of being weak", she finished quietly, unable to hide the sob in her voice, her grey eyes downcast.

Carefully, he tilted her chin up with his long, pale fingers and forced her to meet his eyes. "Orihime, I want you to listen to me. You're the strongest person I know. You've undergone so many trials, and still come out at the end unbroken – I doubt that I, or even Kurosaki, could have lived your life with such poise and optimism. You have always stood firm in your dislike of violence, you've always taken care to think through the consequences of your actions. You never take the easy road, and I admire you for that – more than I can say. It's a different kind of strength, but no less important." He smiled wryly, before adding, "It gives us peons on the battlefield something else to fight for – we fight so that you won't have to sacrifice a part of yourself and do things you don't want to. Would you take that away form us?"

She sniffed, fighting back tears. "You really think that?"

He smiled, and tentatively wrapped an arm around her shoulder, tense and waiting for her to shrug it off.

She didn't.

"I really do."

Orihime gave a watery chuckle. "You sound a little like Captain Unohana. I was talking to her about this before."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm flattered then. What did she say?"

She wiped tears away with the back of one hand. "Well, I said I wanted to be heroic and save people, and she just gave me this look and told me to tour the wards again. I don't know why – I do it at the start of every shift."

Uryuu chuckled. "Smart woman. I can guess the lesson she was aiming for." When Orihime gave him a quizzical look, he continued, "Orihime, I've watched you walk through those wards before. Maybe you don't realise it, but every shinigami in there already thinks you're a hero. You saved every last one of them, because you have the power to do things no one else can. And we need to be realistic – almost all of us will pass through your hands at some point, and you'll save us so that we can go on and fight. It might not be a huge gesture or a massive display of power, but those are a dime a dozen around here. What you do is so much more – you work and fight against the injuries we sustain and you save people every day, not just in battle."

"As far as I'm concerned, in this war, you are my hero." He paused considering what he had just said. "Though, for the sake of my reputation, I would ask you not to repeat that."

She laughed, this time without tears. "Consider it done."

They sat together on the bench for a moment, before Uryuu asked the question that had been preying on his mind since the beginning of their conversation. "So, that was why you were upset? Nothing about Kurosaki?"

"What? Oh, no." She giggled and shook her head. "Rukia is more than welcome to him. He's got too much of a temper for me. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason." He couldn't quite stop the small smile forming on his face, only to sit up abruptly, removing his arm from around her shoulder when she started, an alarmed look on her face.

"Oops! I'm supposed to be back in there already! I have to give out my anchovy cupcakes to the patients." As she stood up and picked up the cake tin beside her, she turned back to him. "Do you want to come with me?" She smiled and shook the tin in what was supposed to be an inviting manner. The contents clunked ominously inside. "There's a cupcake in it for you."

He fought back a shudder. "What kind of icing?"

"Maple syrup flavoured", she replied, beaming.

Accepting the inevitable stomach ache later, he nodded, the faint smile on his face still unabated. "Orihime – don't ever change."

She laughed and he followed her into the building, calling himself a fool once more.

But then again, he mused to himself, we are all fools in love.

xXx

**I've always been bugged by Orihime's issue here – she wants to fight to protect, but the action of fighting is clearly not something she feels comfortable doing. Consider this chapter my way of trying to puzzle it out.**

**Anyway, R and R, y'all. **


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Given that I have to pay for the internet time involved in uploading these chapters, I am losing money doing this, not making it.**

**On the other hand, having a hobby sure does keep me off the streets and out of trouble.**

**Listening to: Mogwai – 'Autorock'.**

Chapter Sixteen

With a gasp drawn from pain, Rukia Kuchiki tried to stand up once more, her cracked ribs protesting as she tried to put her weight on her zanpakuto, the blade firmly implanted in the sand.

_I have to stand. _

_I have to get there – he can't hold out much longer._

Muffling a cry of frustration, she slumped down again, resting against a fallen chunk of what had probably once been a wall. The sands were cold against her hands where they touched, a cold that chilled her far too deeply. Wielding an ice zanpakuto had made Rukia no stranger to lower temperatures, but this cold was different – the sands of Hueco Mundo stole the warmth from inside of you, right down in your core.

It didn't help that the sands were splattered with blood.

Her blood. The blood of the members of the Thirteenth and Third Divisions.

Ichigo's blood.

At the thought, she steeled herself and, using the wall in conjunction with her sword as leverage, finally made it back onto her feet, staggering as she attempted to still herself. She'd been thrown by the vasto lorde further than she thought, she realised as she scanned the terrain – the battle now raged over a hundred metres away, and Ichigo…

Ichigo…

He was still standing, but it was a close call. He was covered in blood, most of it his own, and it seemed to drip from his mouth as he called out the kido spells she had taught him. The power behind them, though, was not what it should have been, not what he was capable of.

Worse – both vasto lorde were still standing, too.

Fighting back a shudder, Rukia hefted Sode no Shirayuki, and started forward on unsteady legs. Only Ichigo would have taken on two vasto lorde and expected to win.

And only she would have followed him.

Their squads did what they could, but this was a captain's fight, and Ichigo had tried everything he knew to send them out of the worst of it.

This was a fight for those who had Bankai, whether they liked it or not.

As Ichigo stumbled, narrowly avoiding a blow from the less battle-damaged of the two vasto lorde, Rukia knew it was time to pray for a miracle as she ran forward, stopping on the edge of the battlefield. Or, rather, time to pray for a miracle that wasn't Ichigo Kurosaki.

Pointing her zanpakuto to the sky, Rukia placed the palm of her left hand against the blade, sending out a silent prayer.

_Please._

_Please let this be motivation enough._

xXx

_**Three days earlier…**_

One noise of disgust, originating from the back of the throat, and one thrown aside blade later, Rukia Kuchiki was moping.

Her surrounds were certainly not the cause of her sulking – the glittering ice cave, its dimensions vast and spectacular to behold, was a visual feast – an internal world befitting 'the most beautiful zanpakuto in the Seireitei'.

The spirit of said sword watched her mistress, her silent gaze and calm stillness provoking Rukia to lift her head and glare.

"What?"

Sode no Shirayuki looked from Rukia to the discarded weapon and back again, her face remaining impassive but her meaning clear. Her soft voice rang out, "That is hardly how I should be wielded."

"Well, then start helping", Rukia snapped back, violet eyes flashing. "I have the power, I know it. Ichigo and Renji have helped me so much. I'm capable in every way, so answer me this – why don't I have Bankai yet? I don't understand, you've said yourself that none of your previous wielders has ever mastered your Shikai as quickly and thoroughly as I. We work well together, so what's stopping us now?"

The sword spirit settled herself into a kneeling position on the floor of the cave with a boneless grace that made Rukia feel like a spoiled child.

"It's not that I'm not grateful for all that you've done for me", Rukia conceded with a grumble, "I just want to know what's missing. By rights we should be there now."

"Bankai is about more than mere power."

The simple statement had Rukia frowning. "How do you figure that? All of the shinigami who achieve Bankai are… Well, they're all the most powerful."

"There is one notable exception, is there not?" Sode no Shirayuki closed her eyes and sighed to herself. "One who refuses to hear the call of his zanpakuto."

Rukia's eyes widened. "Captain Zaraki? Yeah, but he's different - "

"Not at all." There was a finality to the sword spirit's tone that brooked no argument. "You share the same failing as he – you lack the motivation to become stronger. Though, in his case, it is because he has yet to meet an opponent impressive enough to spur him on."

"Hey, that is not true!" Rukia's outrage was clear. "You know that I've got motivation. How many times have I told you about Nii-sama and Renji and their overprotective carrying on? I need to show them I'm not a liability in a fight so they stop freaking out and trying to take care of me when they need to focus on a battle. It's gotten worse – even Ichigo's started to get in on it. I'm a soldier of the Gotei Thirteen, and they need to recognise it. My squad needs me too, and - "

"But is that enough?"

Rukia stopped. Her expression shifted, annoyed to thoughtful and then back once more. "It's been bugging me for decades", she muttered, "it bloody well should be enough."

"And yet here we sit."

Ichigo didn't have this problem. Hell, from what Rukia had heard, Zangetsu was far more forthcoming. Even the hollow offered more help than this.

"Thank you", Rukia replied, through gritted teeth, "I hadn't noticed."

"I will tell you this much", her sword spirit added. "All that is lacking in your attempts is sufficient motivation. Without it, you lack the resolve and determination to take this final step. But I would not be too concerned."

"You will find it sooner or later."

As Rukia disappeared, waking up in her own body once more, she snorted.

"Specificity. Can't say it five times fast, can't get it from my zanpakuto."

xXx

Gathering what power she could to her exhausted, battered frame, Rukia cast her senses out, reaching for the one entity that could potentially get her through this.

_Sode no Shirayuki?_

_Please, I need your help._

_He needs your help._

Silence greeted her as she continued to stumble forward, determined to do something to save Ichigo, and wishing that she hadn't been so determined to shirk what help had been offered to her.

xXx

_**36 hours earlier…**_

Placing his calligraphy pen down with a mixture of grace and firmness that indicated he was somewhat less than happy, Byakuya coolly replied, "All the same, I do not like this."

"Nii-sama…" Rukia tried to hide the frustration in her tone as she attempted to explain her position. "The Fifth and Sixth Squads have continually been involved in battles since this began. It is entirely understandable that Captain Ukitake would want to rest both divisions, while the Thirteenth are still partially under his control and have only been involved in the latest skirmishes. He just wants to be able to take care of his squad by keeping them under his protection while he fights."

"I can appreciate that", Byakuya returned swiftly, "but he is no longer solely your captain. He is now Captain-Commander of the Gotei Thirteen, with so many responsibilities on his shoulders that I doubt he will be able to protect you directly. And without Renji and myself…" Byakuya caught sight of the mutinous expression his adopted sister was trying and failing to conceal, and sighed. "Rukia, it is not that I doubt your abilities in any way. I just care for you and wish to see you safe from harm. Is that so wrong?"

"Of course not." Rukia looked decidedly guilty now, and Byakuya decided to make his point.

"Rukia, I know you believe that I am overprotective - "

"I never said that!"

Byakuya raised one eyebrow, conveying to Rukia that he knew damn well that that wasn't the whole sentence. She got the message, and sighed, shaking her head. "Fine. I never said it out loud." She gave him a rueful smile. "How is it you always know what I'm thinking, Nii-sama?"

Byakuya fought the urge to smile. Was it really only three years ago that the young woman before him had been a complete stranger? Focusing on the matter at hand, he simply responded, "We are more alike then people suppose. When I was younger, the Clan attempted to interfere with my Gotei duties in order to keep me from direct combat." Recalling how that had gone, he added dryly, "I reacted far more violently than you have, so I suppose I should praise your restraint. But then, I did have a temper at that age."

Rukia snorted. "I heard about that. Property damage – I mean, really, Nii-sama?"

"I have matured since then." Byakuya's lips twitched. "Mostly."

She laughed at that. "Fair enough. All the same, I do think you're over-reacting. I'll have Ichigo with me after all."

"Of course." Byakuya gave in to the urge to smile slightly. "And how is Kurosaki? I have not seen him since he disappeared after you onto the balcony at Kyouraku and Ise's wedding."

The way she lit up made the outcome of that incident clear. "Nii-sama, he - "

"Finally told you how he felt." Byakuya tried not to sound too smug but, well, he had done his part.

Rukia's eyes widened. "You knew?"

"Rukia", he replied dryly, "you would have an easier task attempting to compile a list of people who were unaware. You might have to search further to find them, but the number would certainly be fewer in the long run."

Her eyes narrowed, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling. "Yes, thank you. I get the point." She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Still, you have to concede, Ichigo is certainly going to take care of me on the field. Not that I need it", she added under her breath.

Byakuya shook his head. "There is an element there that concerns me also. Kurosaki will protect you, yes, but at what cost?"

"What do you mean?" Rukia's tone was cautious and a note of alarm had entered her voice.

"I only ask that you do not take unnecessary risks just because you have his protection", Byakuya replied gravely. "Because Kurosaki will defend you, to the death, if need be."

"And I know that is the last thing you want."

xXx

_Please Shirayuki, please._

_I'll beg if I have to, just – _

The cero roared past her, missing by inches. Ichigo shot Kido of his own, his face contorted with rage as he called out, "Oi, fuckers. Focus on the guy who's going to kick your collective asses, or else this fight's going to get a whole lot shorter."

The two vasto lorde turned back to him, their grins macabre on their masked faces. They were both moving more slowly, both apparently injured, but Ichigo was just as bad, if not worse.

He wasn't going to last.

With a choked sob, his name passed her lips and, as he blasted another crater in the ground and sent his foes running, Ichigo turned to her, his face stern and resolute.

"Rukia", he called, "get out of here."

"But - "

"Just go! I'll hold them off."

The corner of his mouth was twitching. She caught only a brief glimpse of it before he turned back to the fight, but she knew what it meant. Ichigo was a hopeless liar, but on the few occasions he tried, his tell was obvious – without fail, one corner of his mouth would twitch. And she knew.

He didn't expect to hold them off.

He did, however, want her to go. He wanted to protect her, and the only way he could do it was to get her to leave him while he fought and, all too probably, died.

Her grip tightened on Sode no Shirayuki's hilt as whispered, more to herself than anyone else, "I can't."

_I can't leave. Not when you're here, and you need me. _

_Please._

xXx

_**Two hours ago…**_

As Rukia gazed out over the assembled troops, she could feel the weight of someone's gaze upon her. That was hardly new. As the not-quite noble Kuchiki, and the not-quite lieutenant of the Thirteenth, she was used to the puzzled and occasionally contemptuous looks people gave her wherever she went. She didn't like them – who would? – but she had long since accepted them.

As it happened, though, this gaze was far friendlier.

The kiss placed on the back of her neck had her spinning around to confront the culprit, her scowl fading as she realised just who had been responsible.

"Ichigo", she admonished, trying not to focus on the way her heart seemed to beat that much faster when he was present. He simply flashed her a quick grin, his brown eyes warm, and replied, "No one's watching. They're all too busy gaping over Captain Ukitake and Lieutenant Kurotsuchi."

"That's all very we – wait, what?" She looked around his shoulder, only to find both shinigami hand in hand. "Huh. Well, that's new."

"I'll say", he muttered dryly. "Anyway, who's leading the Thirteenth? Captain Ukitake never said who'd be the captain of the Thirteenth."

"I have no idea who he's intending in the long run", Rukia admitted with a frown, "which is odd, since he always briefs me on any developments."

"So, you're in charge?" Ichigo grinned.

"No, baka." She rolled her eyes. "Kiyone's lieutenant and I'm just Third Seat. I'm grateful Nii-sama let me have that, because I think he'd freak out if I was the sort-of captain, even for just one battle."

Ichigo shrugged. "I don't know. Byakuya seems to have lightened up lately. Renji's influence, no doubt."

She raised an eyebrow, a neat trick Nii-sama had taught her. "I'll tell Nii-sama you said so. I have no doubt that he will take a great interest in your opinion."

"Geez, midget, I thought you liked me. Way to send me to an early grave."

"Hey!" Her eyes narrowed. "Don't call me - "

He held both hands up in defence. "Why do you assume it's an insult?" The corner of his lips quirked into an almost-smile. "I'll have you know that I happen to rather like midgets."

"Do you now?" Her lips twitched into a smirk.

"Well, one in particular", Ichigo conceded, pressing a quick kiss to her waiting lips. "Try to stay close to the Third."

"Kiyone and I were planning to", she replied with a grin. "We're without anyone who has captain level abilities, and we decided between us when we discussed it last night that you were captainy enough for two squads."

"Lovely", he muttered. "Just stay close to me, would you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're going the same way as Renji and Nii-sama?"

"It isn't that." He wouldn't meet her eyes, as he mumbled, "I just don't want to lose you."

Carefully, Rukia slipped her hand into his. "I know that feeling. But you won't. And I won't lose you either." Shaking her head, she squeezed his hand, and then let go, giving him a gentle push. "Now get back to your squad before someone notices we're a little too friendly – people can't gawk and my captain and his new girlfriend forever."

He grinned back. "Wanna bet?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Baka."

He strolled off, as she shook her head. At least Ichigo could always cheer her up, even when she was edgy before a battle. Now, all she could be was wait for them to go through the garganta and back into Hueco Mundo. She couldn't say that her memories of the place were particularly enjoyable, but at least she had been able to finally confront Kaien here and lay some ghosts to rest. Certainly, she'd come through her time in Hueco Mundo in better shape than most and, while she was hardly eager to return, at least she wasn't entirely overcome with dread.

And then, all of a sudden, they were moving, hundreds of shinigami acting as a single entity and racing through the divide between worlds, swords out and ready to attack. Rukia could hear the roar of explosives, all of them aimed at the solid white wall that surrounded their target – a laboratory near the menos forest, far from Las Noches fortress itself. The wall didn't seem to want to oblige, however, and appeared to be standing fast.

However, apparently there were still plenty of their enemies left on this side of the wall, all of who were still coming for them.

It was chaos. They may have had a plan and formation when they arrived, but it gave way all too soon to a form of barely controlled madness, as shinigami, hollow and arrancar clashed, spiritual power flaring across the battlefield. Rukia and Kiyone sprang into the fray, the younger woman giving a loud battle cry as she decapitated an opponent, sending his head flying in Rukia's direction. Rukia dodged only narrowly, before calling out, "Only a 7.5, I'm afraid. Sloppy follow through."

Kiyone laughed as her blade cut through another foe. "Picky, picky. You know, I could have been aiming for you."

Rukia sniffed, slicing through the abdomen of a spine-covered arrancar woman and swiftly cutting her throat. "I would have expected better from my commanding officer."

The lieutenant rolled her eyes, as Rukia's Kido spell took out the group of hollows in front of them. "You'd think you'd have learnt by now. Anyway – time to join the Third?"

Scanning the knot of enemies between Ichigo's squad and her own, Rukia shrugged, though her voice sounded dubious. "Sure, if we can get there."

Flashing her a quick grin, Kiyone held her zanpakuto aloft, crying out, "The Thirteenth! With me!" She hurled herself into the fray, Rukia and the rest of the squad with her.

It was an arduous task, and Rukia was forced to release Sode no Shirayuki in the process, but they arrived there in the end, their path behind them a mess of bodies and melting ice. As Rukia leapt and found herself at Ichigo's side, his lieutenant, Kira Izuru, nodded to her, a faint smile on his face.

"We wondered when you'd get here."

"We're fashionably late", Kiyone returned, sticking out her tongue. "Besides, it looks like you've got things under control."

The battlefield around the Third was all whirling sand and craters formed by Ichigo's Kido and zanpakuto, the immense power in his strikes paring back sand to the rock beneath. They had almost cleared their part of the fight, and it was clear that 'under control' was almost understating the case – the Third had annihilated their opponents.

Ichigo turned around from his place at the head of the squad and gave Rukia a quick grin. She smirked back, shaking her head. "You couldn't save me any?"

His grin widened. "Well, shit midget, I tried, but I guess those short legs of yours meant you just weren't fast enough."

"And here I thought you liked my legs."

"Never said I didn't."

With the long-suffering sigh of a man who was used to this sort of thing, Kira interjected, "I don't suppose we could save the flirting for when we return? It might have escaped your notice, but that wall is still standing and we're not quite done here."

Almost as if on cue, the air in front of them rippled, the sign of someone with considerable spiritual pressure concealing their presence. Instantly, all of the shinigami were on their guard. Ichigo's eyes narrowed.

"Kira, you sure you're not clairvoyant?"

"Don't be absurd", Kira replied in dry but good-natured tones. "If I could see the future, I would have transferred out as soon as I worked out you were going to be my captain."

"You wound me."

"I wish."

"I thought we were saving the flirting for later", Rukia muttered, as she sent a quick lightning Kido at this new threat. It wouldn't be enough to cause serious damage to someone of the sort of calibre that lent itself to disappearing entirely, but at least it would force them out into the open.

It worked.

The air shimmered as the spell hit it, only to shatter and reveal two things that may Rukia freeze where she stood.

The first thing that alarmed her was a vasto lorde, human in form, except for the white bone mask that covered any facial features the creature may have possessed, and the long, talon-like nails on both hands and feet. It moved with an almost boneless grace as it prowled toward them, clearly intent on its course.

The second thing was the creature next to it; so similar that it could have been its clone. Given that their target was a laboratory, this possibility was disturbingly likely.

Next to her, Kira inhaled sharply. "Two? We need back up. Captain, I - "

Whatever Kira had been about to say was lost. With the recklessness that had become his trademark, Ichigo had already surged forward, his blade meeting with the claws of one as he hit the other with Kido.

Rukia took the moment to mutter several things under her breath that were decidedly not fitting for a Kuchiki, before she turned to the rest. "He might think he's invincible, but that's a load of – look, just get the rest of them out of here. This isn't going to be easy and the squads will only be in the way here. You two need to take charge of them. Kira, get your lot to surround a wide perimeter. The last thing Ichigo needs is to be blindsided by any additional combatants, and his power will draw every bloody thing in an impressive radius. Stand guard and let nothing else through – Kami knows he'll have his hands full with this lot. Kiyone – I need you to go on a back up hunt. I don't care how good he thinks he is, he's going to need it."

Her superior shook her head. "Look, I'll do it but what about you? You can't seriously be thinking of - " She broke off, studying Rukia's face. "You are, aren't you? You're going in after him. Are you mad?"

"Not as far as I know", Rukia replied absently, her attention on the fight before them. Ichigo was holding his own, but how long would that last? "Look, we fight well together. We're a good team, and we've taken down vasto lorde before. Hell, I even managed one." She elected not to add that Nii-sama and Renji had done most of the work, and she'd come in at the end when the creature was distracted. It was best not to let Kiyone worry too much.

"Fine." Kiyone gave her a quick, fierce hug. "Take care of yourself."

"Always do", she replied flippantly, before flashing away to join Ichigo. It was only when she was halfway there that she realised she had just ordered around two shinigami, both of whom were technically superior to her, and that they had actually listened her and then obeyed her orders.

She blinked, almost tripping over herself as she moved.

_Well, even I can talk sense sometimes. And I do know more about how Ichigo fights than anyone else in the Seireitei, even his lieutenant. _

_I guess that's it._

_Besides, any sensible person would have come up with the same ideas._

The spiritual pressure she walked into was like an oppressive weight, though she was still able to cope with it. Rukia had, after all, been training with Ichigo for over a year now and she was used to him. However, an alarming note in the proceedings was the alien, cold spiritual pressure that accompanied it.

_They are strong. This could be a problem. Still, I'm upright. I guess I really have become stronger, if I can stay on my feet in this._

Rukia didn't hesitate. Columns of ice rose and shattered, the shards raining over the two vasto lorde, as Ichigo turned to face her, scowling.

"Dammit midget. Get back to your squad!"

"Like hell I will", she returned, firing off deadly Kido that, while not as effective as she might have hoped, sent scorch marks up the arm one of the vasto lorde used to block the spell. Surveying her opponents, her feelings of disquiet grew. Ichigo was bleeding heavily from his shoulder, and his haori was charred in places, while the two creatures were bleeding equally heavily from the left leg and stomach respectively, but still they came on just as quickly, while Ichigo had slowed.

As Ichigo clearly recognised a losing battle in his fight to keep Rukia away, and turned back to face his foes, Rukia shot Kido spell after kido spell at the creatures' feet, driving them back into the range of Ichigo's blade when he struck. Craters were blasted into the ground, both from Ichigo and the two vasto lorde, but neither party seemed able to land blows. And yet, Rukia was concerned – they may seem evenly matched on the surface, but Ichigo was tiring faster. It wouldn't stay an even match for very much longer.

She let both Kido and her ice form a barrier that closed in around the fighters and herself – if she could just stop the vasto lorde from using sonido, then Ichigo might have a chance. Chasing them across the sand was wearying him, and it was with an immense sense of relief that Rukia saw Ichigo land a crucial blow, severing the tendons on one leg as a vasto lorde stumbled.

Her triumph was short-lived.

The second vasto lorde appeared behind her with a crack of sonido. She had time to glimpse almost unending rows of sharp white teeth, before a powerful force struck her in the stomach, hurling her through her makeshift barrier, sending her flying so far that she hit the wall the shinigami were still trying to bring down.

_Huh,_ she thought, her head spinning, _I guess Kuchiki projectiles don't work on it either._

As her eyes seemed to close against her will, the last thing she heard was Ichigo's roar of rage and a cracking noise coming from the wall behind her.

xXx

Somehow, and she still wasn't sure if she wished to question it, the bricks of the wall had missed her as they fell, collapsing upon themselves. Even more miraculously, she had broken nothing.

_Then again, Kami only knows I have a high tolerance for damage. Ichigo did throw me off the Soukyoku that one time…_

_Not the point. I need to focus._

_Shirayuki, please, if there has ever been a time – _

There was a blinding light, and a monumental crash, before the shockwaves pushed her off her feet. As she fought to get back up, squinting against the flying sand, suddenly she was greeted with the last sight she had ever expected to see.

In front of her, outline faint against the dust cloud, was Sode no Shirayuki.

Rukia couldn't stop herself from gaping. A physical zanpakuto spirit manifestation was a rare feat that few could achieve, and yet –

Her sword spirit lifted her head to face her wielder, shaking pale hair back from a delicately featured face. Slowly, Sode no Shirayuki smiled, and gave a brief nod, only to vanish once more.

And then, all of a sudden, Rukia knew.

The dust cleared. Ichigo had taken out one vasto lorde, blasting it where it stood. It had been a lucky shot, but a successful one nonetheless, as the charred limbs strewn across the sand could attest. However, Rukia could sense his power fluctuating wildly. As the other closed in, she knew he wouldn't be able to hold off the attack.

She flash stepped forward, her zanpakuto held aloft, only to arrive next to Ichigo as he slumped forward, the sword planted in the ground the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes widened as he saw her there. "Rukia, you're – you need to get out of here!"

She flashed him a quick smile, careful to never let her eyes leave the vasto lorde, who had not stopped moving forward. "No. I'm not leaving you." She readied herself, taking the necessary stance, Sode no Shirayuki held directly out in front of her as she turned back to the vasto lorde, her eyes narrowing.

"And this one is mine."

It was close enough to hear her and it laughed, a horrid, rasping sound. "Do you want me to send you flying again, little shinigami?"

Her smile was cold. "You can try."

The smile it gave her in turn was like a razor. "I will succeed. Prepare to die."

Rukia could feel it now, the power, and the resolve as she, let her eyes close, her senses trained on her opponent. As Ichigo slid down onto the sand just behind her, his legs finally giving out, she let her reiatsu coil around her, ready to strike.

_I can do this. It's weakened and I'm ready._

_I'll give it 'motivation'. _

Her eyes opened, and, with a triumphant smile on her lips, she called out, "Bankai! Chimeiteki Fubuki!"

Her sword shattered, the razor-sharp shards flying out in all directions, as the vasto lorde dodged. With a faint noise of frustration, Rukia shot Kido in its path, forcing it to dodge and weave on two fronts, in the hope that she could keep it as far from Ichigo as possible and lead it into her attacks.

_Come on._

_It won't take much, but I can't hold the shards apart much longer, and I'm no match for this thing while my power recovers._

_Come on._

In desperation, she spotted her chance and, as the vasto lorde neared a block of the fallen wall, she shot lightning at it, forcing it into the path of the bulk of her sword particles. To her dismay, it seemed to skim past them all, and she staggered back as they turned back to her, reforming the blade in her hand.

_No! I can't fail. I need to protect him!_

_It can't end like this._

_It won't._

She could still fight. It wouldn't be much, now that her Bankai had failed, but she could at least distract the vasto lorde from Ichigo. Help would arrive. It had to.

The vasto lorde chuckled and gave her a cruel smile as it noted the blade in her shaking hands. It stepped forward, only metres away now and closing. "Fool shinigami. Still, I have to admire you for trying. All that effort, and all I got was one measly scratch." The smile widened. "Pitiful."

Suddenly, the vasto lorde stopped in its tracks. This wasn't right. His victim was supposed to be paralysed with terror, not eying the cut trickling blood on his cheek with triumph and fixing him with a smile as deadly as his own.

Her own laughter reached her ears, as Rukia shook her head. "Here's the thing about Kuchikis, hollow." She stopped laughing and stared him down, lowering her blade.

"We only ever need to hit once."

It was a chain reaction. The vasto lorde seemed to seize up, muscles still, a gaping maw visible in the mask emitting choking noises. The eyes behind the mask were wide and staring, horrified at their sudden defeat, as skin stretched across muscle and seemed to bulge through the veins. Without warning, there was a sickening ripping noise, as the creature exploded from the inside out, torn apart by an unseen force, the remains flying across the sand.

As Rukia deftly stepped aside to avoid flying entrails, she heard faint applause behind her. She turned around, one eyebrow raised, to gaze at Ichigo as he sat in the sand, grinning at her in a decidedly woozy fashion. "Shit, midget. That was impressive. What happened?"

Forgetting any Kuchiki dignity, she hurled herself at him, wrapping slender arms around his frame as she knelt on the sand with him. "Thank Kami it worked. You're all right!"

He winced as their bodies made contact. "Careful, I might need a trip to the Fourth yet. Seriously Rukia, that was amazing. Kinda gross, but still amazing."

She grinned at him, her nose wrinkling a little. "It _is_ a little disgusting. But when you freeze a liquid, it expands, and if the container can't hold it – wait, I'm getting ahead of myself." Rukia paused, collecting herself. "It just sort of happened. I saw Shirayuki in front of me, and I just knew. Nii-sama says the moment you achieve Bankai is different for everyone, but I thought it would be so much harder. I guess I've spent the last few years working so hard, I sort of bypassed that requirement. Not everyone can make a spectacle of achieving Bankai like you did."

"I'll let that one slide. Go on."

"Well, I knew and that was that." She looked down at her blade, a faint smile on her face. "_Lethal blizzard_. It's fitting. I only need one piece to cut you, and then it freezes you, inside out. And when your blood freezes - "

"I get the picture", Ichigo broke in, a queasy expression on his face. "C'mon, help me up. I'd say it's time to move out. I've cast my senses out a bit, and everything major in the area is on our side. The fortress is pretty much destroyed."

As Rukia helped up the man she loved, she cast a glance out over the battle-scarred terrain, watching as shinigami quickly and efficiently disposed of their foes.

_We did it._

_We actually did it._

Ichigo groaned as he got to his feet, and Rukia turned to him, concern clear in her violet eyes. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

He shook his head as he grimaced. "Nah midget, I just realised something."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with being shorter than average!"

"Hey, we've been over this – I like midgets. Anyway, Byakuya will be ridiculously proud of you for achieving Bankai, but he's gonna come after me with Senbonzakura for putting you in a position to use it." Ichigo nodded thoughtfully. "Renji, too."

Rukia rolled her eyes. "Baka."

"Hey! I'm not - "

"You are", Rukia broke in, her voice dry before her lips quirked into a smirk. "I guess that just makes you very lucky that my type happens to include one particular baka."

He blinked, before grinning.

"Touché, midget. Touché."

xXx

**I do rather like this couple. It's all pig-tail pulling and name-calling goodness. And, given Rukia was training with Ichigo and Renji, coupled with the potential she showed in the Arrancar Arc, I figured it was about time she kicked some serious ass.**

**R and R, y'all!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Tite Kubo can afford to spend all of his days writing. Given that I'm currently using the school holidays and my break to do the writing part of things and assure you that I'm still alive, I think it's fairly safe to say that this is not my full time job.**

**If only.**

**Listening to: Sia – "I'm in Here (Piano Version)".**

Chapter 17

Isane knows she's overprotective.

In reality, she was never going to be anything else. Ten years may pass in the blink of an eye in this world, but as an age gap between siblings it becomes a different beast altogether. She and Kiyone may have been born in one of the nicer Rukongai districts, but after the deaths of both their parents and their being shunted from one part of the extended Kotetsu family to the other, life was far from easy. It fell to Isane to become the consistent parental figure in her younger sister's life.

Once they got to the academy, it didn't really change. Sure, their lives were a little less precarious, and they were no longer at the mercy of various relatives who begrudged them every last scrap of food, but it was hardly paradise. The Gotei Thirteen, for all its supposed equality, was still very much a man's world, and a nobleman's world at that. They were simply two young women from the Rukongai, albeit, the less disreputable districts of the Rukongai (If you misbehaved in the bars there, they threw you out the door. In the scarier districts, they threw the door at you, and then threw you through a wall).

So she continued to act as Kiyone's protector. Isane didn't mind; having a purpose made it easier to face the things she was afraid of, whether she was awake or asleep.

Still, she knows that now, given that Kiyone is a lieutenant and a perfectly competent one, it is no longer really her place. The love between the two sisters has never been particularly strained (though it came close when Rukia Kuchiki was to be executed), but now there is an underlying tension.

Kiyone no longer needs protecting, at least, certainly not in the way she used to.

Isane has lost her purpose.

Oh, she knows it's not quite as melodramatic as all that. Her sister has simply grown up; it was always going to happen, and now that's one less responsibility on her shoulders.

Except she can't seem to see it that way when her heart is involved. Her nightmares, when they're not completely 'bat-shit insane' (Kiyone's term, and she has to concede, it's true), are about failing in her duty, about letting those she seeks to protect die. She cannot help it; she feels responsible for so many. Her squad need her, as one of the strongest people there with a combat zanpakuto, and Kiyone, despite what she thinks, is without a captain and needs her too.

Isane knows she's stubborn.

That's why she can't let this sense of responsibility go. That's the reason that she, with her entirely combat-based weapon, is the lieutenant of a healing squad; when she decides to do something, she won't stop until it is well and truly done.

It's probably this trait that won't let her simply walk away from protecting Kiyone. No matter how old Kiyone is, she will always be Isane's only living family (those penny-pinching, nasty old coots they lived with as children don't even come close to counting), and she will always be her younger sister. Isane can't just walk away.

In her head, she knows that her sense of responsibility to the entire Gotei Thirteen, in spite of (or, perhaps, because of) its faults, is somewhat disproportionate to what it should be. But she believes in duty and responsibility (all the things her fellow lieutenants call 'boring crap', though they uphold these things every day), and she cannot stop herself.

Maybe it's because the Gotei Thirteen ended up being the first real home she and Kiyone ever had; the only home they've ever had.

She owes it her loyalty, at the very least, and with that comes her overprotective nature, her stubbornness, her overwhelming senses of responsibility and duty.

xXx

Isane knows she's overprotective.

That's why she volunteers to patrol the Rukongai on the nights where everyone else decides they want to party. She'd condemn them for that attitude, but she can understand why they feel they need that escape from the horrors their reality sometimes faces them with. She cannot begrudge them that and, as she's never really enjoyed parties anyway, she's happy to do this for them.

It's also why nothing ever misses her gaze, sharp, like a hawk's. Her determination to ensure nothing gets past her guard, and so it's easy for her to spot the problem, even easier as the screams reach her ears.

Even the worst districts don't have background noise like this.

Isane knows she's stubborn.

Protocol dictates that she call for backup, so she does, sending the hell butterfly out into the night. But there are only ten of them, and none of them are particularly strong arrancar. She cannot ignore the desire to prevent anyone else from having to face this, nor the desire to stop the carnage before her eyes.

She draws her zanpakuto.

xXx

Isane knows she's overprotective.

That's why she charges in when she's outnumbered, stepping between a battered scrap of humanity holding a squalling infant, and the leering, masked creature that comes for them.

That's why her blade whirls and kido sparks from her free hand as she dispatches her foes.

Isane knows she's stubborn.

That's why, even when the first of their blades bites, scoring across her thigh, she does not let up her assault. There are only four left now, but she knows that she is beginning to falter, and this wound will not be the last.

That's why, even when the last of them pins her to the wall, its blade through her stomach, she does not stop. Itegumo bites, tearing through the exposed throat, and the creature stills, allowing her to draw the weapon out of her body, letting her slump to the ground.

She can see the stars dimming and she knows that she is dying on this dusty street, but she doesn't mind, not entirely.

She has died as she has lived.

A protector, once and forever.

xXx

**So, I'm back.**

**For all of about a week, so don't get too hopeful. The good news, however, is that this shouldn't be the only thing I post in the next few days.**

**As for this, let me know what you think. This story will probably pause for a couple of months (not really new, I know), just until I can start the next Bleach epic that will run alongside it. Don't panic – I hate reading a story and getting into it, only for it to end up abandoned, so I'm not about to do that to someone else. **

**R and R, y'all!**


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